


The Wonder of Love

by CharlotteAshmore



Series: The Wonder of Love verse [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark Castle, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending after the Angst, He’s the fucking Dark One so don’t freak out when he acts like it, More angst, Smut, Snark, Stiltskin Family Feels, The Enchanted Forest, lots of feels, more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 133,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baelfire is determined to free his father from the Dark One’s curse he took on a year ago in order to rid the Frontlands of the ogres and save his only son.  It’s a bit trickier than he’d thought and is desperate to find answers.  After all, who would believe that True Love’s Kiss would be powerful enough to break a curse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Origins

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything remotely involving OUAT or its characters…nothing, nada, pfft! This is just for my own amusement.
> 
> A/N: Another entry for Emilie Brown’s Cover Bunny Contest!! Yes I’m a glutton for punishment, but I got the idea and I had to run with it. Hope you enjoy. I was in Rumbelle withdrawals considering all the Madswan and Rushbelle I’ve been writing lately (o:

Rumpelstiltskin sauntered through the Great Hall of the massive fortress with a bounce in his step as he surveyed his new holdings.  “I think this should do nicely for us, don’t you, son?”

 

Baelfire rolled his eyes and swiped a finger across the long dining table, leaving a trail in the thick layer of dust that coated the surface of the wood.  “Who’d you kill to obtain such a prize?  A duke, an earl?” he asked caustically as he eyed the man who’d once been his whole world.

 

So much had changed in the year since his father had taken on the curse of the Dark One to save him from the ogre’s war.  To save everyone.  The Duke of the Frontlands had conscripted most of the able bodied men in their village and those scattered about his vast holdings, but it hadn’t been enough.  His meager forces couldn’t hold back the horde that seemed to march ever closer.  Soon they would reach their village and there would be no escape for the spinner and his twelve year old son.  He’d been desperate.  There was no money to flee, nowhere they could go and death was knocking at their door…if not from the ogres, then from the famine that seemed to plague their lands.  And in that desperation, he took the advice of an old beggar and went on a quest for a mythical dagger that would help him summon the Dark One.

 

Too bad he hadn’t read the fine print on that deal.  The Dark One had goaded Rumpelstiltskin to anger and in that furious rage, the spinner had succumbed to it and killed the demon.  He hadn’t known he’d have to take on the curse himself.  He’d quickly been able to dispatch the ogres, saving them all, but the land had been to ravaged, easily susceptible to disease and famine.  He’d wanted to help, but there was another aspect to his curse he would come to learn.  All magic comes with a price.  The magic demanded its payment and nothing in this world was free. 

 

It wasn’t just the green-gray skin with its flecks of gold or the wiry mess his hair had become.  It wasn’t his penchant for flamboyant gestures and fine clothing.  Nor was it his obsession with magic.  No, what worried him the most was Rumpelstiltskin’s cruelty and the darkness that took more of his soul with each passing day.  This _monster_ wasn’t his father.  His father had been good and kind, despite being branded a coward.  The open disgust his father had been plagued with in their village hadn’t mattered to Baelfire.  He _knew_ who his father truly was.  But this curse…he emitted a sigh filled with the sadness that weighed on him…this curse was slowly killing the gentle spinner Rumpelstiltskin had once been.

 

Baelfire’s question hadn’t been without cause, either.  The imp had a strong aversion to nobles and he cringed at the thought of how his father might have come by the deserted fortress.  Morraine poked him in the ribs, casting him a look of disapproval.  She adored Rumpelstiltskin and always bristled with outrage when Baelfire spoke to him in such a way.  When their village had been decimated by famine and disease, her parents had been some of the first to succumb.  If it weren’t for her friendship with him, she would have perished as well.  Instead, wanting only his son’s happiness, Rumpelstiltskin had taken her into their home and made her a part of their family, promising to keep her just as safe and protected as he would Bae.

 

Now the Dark One had found a new home for them, no longer wanting or needing the village who’d shunned him.  It wasn’t safe for them there any longer.  He wanted a fresh start for them, somewhere the children could make friends and live a normal life without the stigma of his cowardice holding them back.  His curse was another matter, but he was determined to try to make things better.  He’d promised.

 

“I didn’t kill anyone, Bae,” Rumpelstiltskin sighed in exasperation.  “The old lord died penniless and his son was looking to sell.  He didn’t want to live an impoverished life within the confines of a crumbling castle.  He traded it for enough gold to seek adventure abroad.”  He rested his hand upon his son’s shoulder and tilted his chin up to meet his gaze, warm brown eyes so like his own had been long ago stared back at him.  “I promised you…no more killing.”

 

“A promise you’ve broken at least once,” the boy said accusingly.  “I know you’re trying, papa, but the darkness won’t let you succeed.  Don’t you see that?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin straightened, his eyes gleaming with anger.  “That man stole my children to force me into a deal I had no wish to make.  I will _not_ let anyone harm you or Morraine and the people of this realm need to know that.”

 

Baelfire wrapped his arms around the sorcerer’s middle and buried his face against his chest.  “I won’t give up, papa.  I _will_ find a way to break your curse.”

 

Morraine edged her way into her surrogate father’s embrace and nodded fervently.  “We both will.”

 

The Dark One retreated to the farthest corners of the spinner’s mind, uncomfortable with the show of love from the children, leaving the father to accept their affection.  “It’s been a year since we made that deal, Bae.  I’m afraid there is no way to break my curse unless I pass it to another through death.  It’s hopeless.”

 

“Don’t say that, papa,” Morraine whispered, her tears soaking the front of his waistcoat.  “We’ll find a way.”

 

He held them both, enveloped in his arms and dropped a kiss to each of their crowns before releasing them.  “Alright, _none_ of us will give up on finding a way to break my curse, but in the meantime…what do you think of our new home?  Will it suffice?”

 

Baelfire cast a long suffering look about the cavernous room and fought to keep a grimace off his young face.  “Well, it’s kinda big, papa.  What do we need with so much space?”  He didn’t want to disappoint his father, unable to miss the hopeful gleam in Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes.

 

“Admittedly, it is larger than what we need, but we can grow into it,” he offered lamely, flourishing his elegant hand in a dismissive gesture.  “And I could enchant it to keep it clean and rid it of all this dust.” He wrinkled his nose as he noticed the heavy coating of dust and grime.

 

Morraine nudged Baelfire with her elbow and arched a brow.  “I think it’s splendid.  We can spend days just exploring.  Where’s your sense of adventure?”

 

“We’ll make it a home, Bae.  You’ll see, son.”

 

Baelfire took in the hopeful expressions on their faces and caved.  “I suppose it’s just as good as any place we could find.  As long as we’re together.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

“Bae, this is a really bad idea,” Rumpelstiltskin said, casting a furtive glance down at himself.  “Not to mention I’m getting frostbite on my pinky toes.”

 

“Papa, could you at least try to be serious just this once?” Baelfire asked as he once again consulted the tome by the light of the torch.

 

The sorcerer groaned, but fell silent, letting his children do as they wished in their quest to find a way to break the curse of the Dark One.  In the three months since they’d moved into the Dark Castle, Morraine and Baelfire had spent nearly every waking moment in the vast library after they’d discovered it, pouring over one tome after another as they researched stories on previous Dark Ones.  And once a month, they put their findings into a practical use.

 

He’d made certain to remove any books on magic from the library that would cause his children undue harm, but apparently folklore was fair game.  Now as he stood out in the snow wearing only a pair of his leather pants and shivering uncontrollably, he was beginning to question his decision.  Their first attempt had involved him standing on his head while they chanted some ridiculous spell…or what they thought was a spell…while he counted backwards from a thousand.  The second one had been so embarrassing he prayed no one would ever find out about it.  It would completely ruin his reputation as the most powerful being in the realm.  Chickens and the Dark One were not a good combination.  Neither was the scented oil they’d dumped over his head.  He never thought he’d get it out of his hair and having to conduct his business dealings smelling of lilacs didn’t sit well with him when his desperate souls kept trying to sniff him.

 

Baelfire pierced the frozen ground with a torch stake at the four corners, each representing a different element and then lit them one by one.  Rumpelstiltskin stared at the small container of some unknown substance in Morraine’s hand as she stirred it with a small brush.  “Um, dearie, what’s that?” he asked, his voice heavy with suspicion.

 

“Pig’s blood.”

 

His brows disappeared into his hairline.  “I beg your pardon?!”

 

“Don’t worry, papa, it won’t hurt you,” she said cheerily as she approached him.  “Just hold still.  Bae come hold the book so I can paint the runes on his skin.”

 

Baelfire snickered.  “Wow, papa, you look just like Mr. Garrett did when we visited him to get the blood,” he said, referring to the butcher in the village.

 

The sorcerer gaped at his children, but held still…or as still as he possibly could when his body was wracked with chills…and let them paint runs onto his scaly skin.  “Is this really necessary?”

 

“I think so.” Baelfire consulted the book once more, scratching his head beneath the hood of his cloak.  At least the children were warm, Rumpelstiltskin mused wryly.  “It says we have to have a full moon, torches to represent the elements, pig’s blood and…um…”

 

“Let me see that,” the imp snapped, reaching for the book.  His eyes widened as he glimpsed the title page.  _A witch’s guide to the impossible._ He read the table of contents and rolled his eyes.  “ _How to remove that tricky wart, What to do when your newt’s eyes curdle, How to rid yourself of an unforgivable curse_ …Bae!  Seriously, son?”  He snapped the book closed and stepped out of the salt ring they’d formed around him, reaching for his discarded cloak. 

 

“But, papa, you promised to let us help!” the boy wailed, following after his father as he set off for the castle.  “You can’t go back on your word!”

 

Rumpelstiltskin ushered his children into the Great Hall and waited as they settled themselves on the hearth rug.  He sat down in his chair before the crackling fire and summoned a tea tray, hoping the aromatic brew would restore warmth to his frozen limbs.  “I am not going back on my word.  I promised to let you help, but this is ridiculous.  You cannot expect these fantastic tales to bear fruit.”

 

“You took our other books away though,” Morraine pouted as she poured herself a cup of tea.  “This is all we’ve been able to find and it’s worth a shot at least.”

 

“Listen to me, both of you,” he said, setting his cup on the tray and taking their hands in his.  His warm amber eyes settled on them and he felt his heart flutter with love.  “I have more control now over the Dark One.  I will not let the darkness consume me completely.  There may not even be a cure for a curse as powerful as this, but we are not going to give up.  We just need to look in a new direction and depend on a more reliable source.”

 

Baelfire stared down into his cup, his reflection, in the still surface of the beverage, troubled.  “As you wish, papa.  We won’t give up.”

 

The imp stretched out his legs, extending his bare feet towards the fire in an effort to warm them as he settled more comfortably in his chair.  “Alright, you two, off with you.  As soon as I defrost I’ll see about preparing dinner.  In the meantime, you can trot yourselves outside and clean up the mess from the front courtyard.”

 

“Yes, papa,” they intoned in unison, sounding like two precious magpies as they set out to obey their father.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Baelfire wrung his hands and ran his fingers through his hair as he paced outside of Morraine’s bedchamber.  He could hear her crying and no matter how much he begged, she refused to allow him entry into her bedroom.  She’d been fine last night when they’d poured over their books in what had become their favorite room in the Dark Castle.  What could have possibly upset her so terribly?

 

He had little choice.  Oh, but he really didn’t want to have to resort to calling on his father.  Rumpelstiltskin had been spending an inordinate amount of time away from home, off on one deal after another and hated to be disturbed.  But this was an emergency!  Morraine had never closed herself off from him like this before.  And to hear her sobbing as if her heart were breaking?  Well, that was just a bit too much for the boy to handle.

 

“Papa!  Papa, I need you!” he called, knowing wherever Rumpelstiltskin was or whatever he may be doing, he would heed a call from his children.

 

The sorcerer appeared in a great burst of violet smoke before the last word had left his mouth.  “Bae!  What is it, son? Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes scanning the boy for any sign of injury.

 

Baelfire shook his head frantically.  “No, it’s not me, papa, I’m fine.  It’s Morraine!”

 

It was then the sorcerer’s sensitive hearing picked up on the sound of his daughter’s mournful wailing seeping out from beneath her bedchamber door.  “What’s wrong with your sister?”

 

“I don’t know!  She’s locked herself in her room and won’t let me in.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin’s brows furrowed as he watched his son dance from foot to foot in barely suppressed agitation.  “Did you upset her in some way?” he asked as he knocked softly on the door.  “Morraine, dearie, it’s papa.  Will you open the door for me?”

 

Baelfire shook his head.  “No, I swear.  I came to check up on her when she didn’t come down for breakfast and she was like this.”

 

“No! Go away and let me die in peace!” came the anguish cry from the other side of the door.  The sorcerer’s eyes widened and one imperious brow rose as he shared a dubious look with his son.

 

“Sweetheart,” he said, gentling his tone.  “It can’t be as bad as all that.  Let me in and we’ll talk about this.  You know papa won’t let any harm come to you.”

 

Her crying increased to the point where he could barely understand her, but he did catch a few words.  He really hated to do it.  He didn’t relish invading his children’s personal space, but he couldn’t stand to see either of them in pain when he was sure there was something he could do to help.  With a wisp of magic, the door opened a crack, but he paused as Baelfire took a step forward to enter the room.

 

Rumpelstiltskin laid a restraining hand on Bae’s shoulder.  “Son, why don’t you go down to the kitchen and prepare a pot of tea for your sister.  You know a good cup always tends to soothe her.”

 

“But—“  his argument trailed away at a stern look from his father.  “Yes, papa.”

 

The imp eased himself into the room and shut the door behind him with a soft snick of the latch.  His poor girl was lying in the center of her huge bed, curled into a ball of hopelessness and crying as though someone had ripped her heart from her chest.  He sat down gently on the side of the bed so as not to jar her and rubbed her back in soothing circles as he tried to offer her comfort.

 

“Dearie, tell papa what has you so distressed.  Please?” he asked, hesitantly.  He couldn’t very well fix whatever was wrong if she wouldn’t confide in him.

 

“I’m bleeding to death.  I doubt I’ll last till dinner,” she wailed, turning to throw her arms about his neck, her petite frame wracked with sobs.

 

“Did you injure yourself?  I promise my magic can heal you,” he assured her.

 

“No, you can’t.  It won’t stop and my stomach hurts and I ache all over and now I’m going to die and have to leave you and Bae and how will you survive if I’m not here to make sure you eat?  Bae needs help to find a way to break your curse and I won’t be here to help him and—“

 

Her words faded intelligibly into more tear choked wails.  “You’re not dying, Morraine.  I’m sure it’s…” He stiffened as realization set in and a fiery blush darkened the scales on his face.  “…oh.”

 

Being dropped in the ninth circle of hell completely naked to burn for eternity couldn’t have been more uncomfortable for him in that moment.  He gaped like a fish as he opened his mouth and then just as swiftly snapped it closed.  This shouldn’t have happened, he wasn’t equipped to explain such things to his daughter.  Yet if he didn’t, who would?  It wasn’t as if he employed a maid who could tell her what she needed to know or had a wife who would sit her down and prepare her for her role as a woman.  There was a widow woman that ran the inn in the village she could talk to, but it would be a cold day in hell before she did a favor for the Dark One.

 

He bounded nervously to his feet after setting her back gently.  “Um…well,” he twittered nervously as he began to pace.  “It’s not going to kill you, dearie.  It’s part of becoming a woman.  When a woman reaches…um…child bearing age…” Gods, he was mucking this up!  “…her body goes through changes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It just does!” he snapped, his voice higher pitched than normal in his befuddled state.  “Just know that you’re not dying and it will only happen to you once a month.”  Thank the blessed Gods!!! 

 

“I’m going to be okay?” she asked, her tears lessening as a hopeful smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

 

“Of course, dearie.”  He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her brow.  “You’re going to be fine.”  He flitted into the bathing chamber that separated her bedroom from Baelfire’s.  He then filled the tub with water and set out cloths she could use during her moon cycle.  The tears had subsided completely when he returned to her.  She trusted him and knew he would never lie to her.  “Come along then.  Have a nice soak in the tub and you’ll feel much better.  I’ve left you some necessary items to see to your…erm…little problem and I’m going to go up to the tower to make you a potion to help with your cramping, alright?”  In the meantime, he’d search the library to see if there might be a book that would explain everything to her in detail.

 

Morraine rose from the bed and swiped a hand over her eyes to dispel the last of her tears.  She wrapped her arms around her father’s waist and nestled against his chest.  “I love you, papa.  Thank you.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin shooed her off towards the bathing chamber with a weak smile, feeling as though he were the biggest idiot in the seven realms…and if not, surely the most uncomfortable one.  Baelfire entered the room carrying a tea tray set with three cups and a plate of scones he’d found in the pantry.

 

“Is she going to be alright, papa?” he asked, chewing his lower lip in thoughtful concern for his sister.

 

“She’s going to be fine, son,” he replied, ruffling his son’s dark hair.  He, on the other hand, would probably never live down the embarrassment.  “I’ll be in the tower should you need me.”

 

“What about your deal?” the boy asked incredulously.  “Aren’t you going to return to your client?”

 

The imp wrinkled his nose in amusement and shook his head.  “No, son, my heart just isn’t in it anymore.  I’d much rather see to my family.” 

 

His son beamed at him as Rumpelstiltskin left the room, more than a little pleased by his father’s choice.  He closed the door to Morraine’s bedroom and made his way slowly to his tower laboratory.  His mind whirled with dismay as he trekked through the dimly lit hallway, only the sound of his boot heels on the cold marble there to keep him company.  He was slowly coming to the realization that his children needed a female role model in their lives.  This entire situation with Morraine wouldn’t have distressed him so much if they had a woman in their lives to explain such matters.  And what of other matters that would arise as they grew?

 

The dark demon he shared his body with, snarled in laughter in the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside.  He hadn’t lied to Bae when he’d said he was more firmly in control.  Yet the thought still niggled at his mind that they needed more.  They were the two most important people in his life.  They had been with him from the beginning in his struggles with his curse. They were the _reason_ he’d taken it on to begin with.  He couldn’t fail them now.  What he needed was…Gods was he even contemplating this?  What he needed was a mother for his precious children.  And if he were to set a good moral example for them, she’d also have to become his wife. 

 

He plunked down onto the stool at his workbench with a heavy thud.  He was the Dark One, the vilest wizard in the realms, the creature everyone feared.  Who in their right mind would bind herself to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know it’s a short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Poor Rum has his hands full with those children, but where’s he ever going to find the help he needs? We’ll soon find out. Next chapter will be his deal with Belle and it’s not going to be what we saw on the show. I have to put my own spin on things. Sorry if he seems a bit out of character, but me being me, well…..I regret nothing. After all, he hasn’t had centuries of misery and darkness to make him as we see him on the show. He’s got Bae and he’s trying to be good for him. Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think (o:


	2. The Deal

His spoon fell from his numb fingertips into his bowl of stew with a splash, sending bits of potato sloshing onto the pristine white tablecloth.  Baelfire stared at his father as if he’d grown another head to sit atop his silk clad shoulders.  “Is this part of some elaborate deal you’re cooking up, papa?” the boy asked, ignoring the spark of magic from their enchanted home that hurriedly cleaned up the mess he’d made.

 

“Why would you think it’s part of a deal that I would wish to marry again?” Rumpelstiltskin asked defensively.

 

Morraine glared at Baelfire through dark whisky colored eyes, warning him not to upset their father.  He had a bad habit of speaking without considering how his words might cause the sorcerer distress and she was in no mood to see their father slink off to his tower to nurse his wounded pride.  She laid her hand over Rumpelstiltskin’s green-gold fingers and squeezed reassuringly.  “What brought this about, papa?  Have you met someone who tickles your fancy?” she asked with a gamine-like grin.

 

“No, pet, and at your age you would do well to make certain no boys tickle yours,” he smirked.  He did not even want to _think_ about some boy chasing after his daughter. 

 

“Then why this talk of marriage all of a sudden?” Baelfire asked, suspicion coloring his tone.  “After mama died you never seemed interested in remarrying.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin shifted imperceptively in his seat, his eyes hardening to bits of cold amber ice at the mention of Baelfire’s faithless wretch of a mother.  He didn’t hate her because she’d decided a life abroad with a pirate was better suited to her than being the wife of a humble spinner.  No, he loathed and despised her because she’d abandoned their son to grow up without his mother.  Thankfully, Bae had no idea that he’d taken care of her in his own way.

 

“It has recently come to my attention that the two of you need a mother,” he said flippantly, waving an elegant hand as he turned back to his dinner.

 

Morraine stared wide eyed and open mouthed across the table at her brother before addressing her father’s latest declaration of insanity.  “Um…papa, have you ever read any fairytales?  Step mothers are evil.  Why would you want to subject us to that?  Have we been bad?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin turned to her, his brows drawn low over his eyes.  “What? No, of course not, dearie.  Do you really think I wouldn’t take the utmost care in choosing a new wife?  She would have to meet my own specifications and requirements if I were to allow her to join our family.”

 

“What kind of specifications?” Baelfire asked, swirling his spoon about in his stew with disinterest, his appetite having fled with the speed of a galloping chimera.

 

“Well,” he thought carefully, pushing his empty bowl aside as he sat back in his chair.  “She would have to be kind, gentle, trustworthy…” he waved a dismissive hand.  “It’s a lovely dream, but I don’t see it happening.  She would have to agree to become my bride and who would want to tie herself to me?”

 

“Papa, we’ve talked about this,” Morraine scolded.  “You are not to speak of yourself in a derogatory manner.  Any woman would be fortunate to have you.”

 

Bae arched a brow in her direction, questioning her sanity.  “Um…OW!” he howled, reaching down to soothe his leg where his sister had kicked him beneath the table.

 

“Perhaps we’d be better off with a maid.  Finding a wife would be next to impossible, but I could probably secure a maid without too much difficulty,” the sorcerer mused.  He shook off his melancholy and regarded them silently for a moment as they finished their dinner.  “So, what would my little magpies like to do this evening, hm?”

 

“Instead of doing research on your curse tonight, I think it would be nice to take tea in the library and have you read to us, papa,” Morraine said with a bright cheery smile.  “Would you?”

 

The imp took in the hopeful gleam in her eyes and couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than spend the evening with his children.  “I’d like that, pet.  Very much.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Several weeks later the Dark One slumped down wearily on the stool before his spinning wheel and reached for a handful of straw.  Trying to secure a maid was not the easy task he’d foreseen.  He couldn’t even get one as his price when making a deal.  It wasn’t as if he were intent upon ravishing some unsuspecting virgin, he thought miserably.  All he wanted was someone here to keep the children company while he was away conducting business.  A woman with a pleasant demeanor who would share her time and offer polite conversation to his wee ones.  Why was that so bloody difficult for people to understand?!

 

The thread knotted and gnarled in his hands and he cursed softly, happy the children weren’t in the room to bear witness to his troubled mood.  How had he ever thought of seeking a bride when he couldn’t even secure the services of a maid?  He couldn’t blame them.  He possessed limitless dark magic, he wasn’t known for his gentle manner and if displeased there was every chance one would find themselves slithering along in their own slime trail…and that was his _good_ points.  He’d come to the realization that he was on his own.  He’d just have to care for the children and hope he didn’t muck it up too terribly.

 

“Papa?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin let go of the twisted mess of thread in his hands and turned toward the great double doors leading into the hall.  “Yes, Bae?” he asked, rising to greet his son.  “What have you there?”  He pointed to the stack of correspondence in the boy’s hands.

 

“You’ve been letting the post pile up in the entry hall again,” Bae chuckled, handing his father the small bundle of letters, notes and missives.  “Would you like my help to sort through it all?”

 

The sorcerer smiled down at his son in surprise.  “You wouldn’t rather be out riding? Or up in the library reading?”

 

“Not really.  It’s rather cold out to be able to enjoy a ride and I think I’d just prefer to spend the afternoon with you.”

 

He led the way over to the great dining table that dominated the center of the room and set the stack between them.  For good measure he also conjured a tea tray and some biscuits to nibble on should they feel peckish.  “Where’s your sister?”

 

“She’s in the solarium _trying_ to embroider your initials onto a handkerchief,” Baelfire said with a shudder.

 

“That bad, eh?”

 

“Just…when she gives it to you…try not to cringe.”

 

“Don’t tease your sister.  She’s doing the best she can considering she has no one to teach her.  I’ve tried, but I don’t think she has the patience for such a pastime.”

 

Bae rolled his eyes and picked up the first letter, taking note of the heavy vellum and reading it swiftly.  “This one is from King Norbert.  His kingdom is on the verge of bankruptcy and he needs help.  He’s willing to offer one of his prize thoroughbreds in exchange for gold.”

 

“Hm,” the imp mused, stroking his chin with his long clawed fingers.  “Would you or Morraine like a new horse?  Norbert’s stables have never failed to produce a champion.”

 

“We’ve enough in the stables, and I’m really not interested in racing, but you might be able to give it to someone in need.”

 

“We could trade it to the sheep farmer two villages over and procure some of his flock in exchange, I suppose.  But what would he do with a thoroughbred?” he asked, making the boy muddle through and come up with a plausible solution.  His son had a quick mind and he was becoming just as adept at deal-making as his infamous father.

 

Bae sat back for a moment and stared absently into the fire before a sly grin curled his lips.  “I know.  We can take the thoroughbred and offer one of our mares instead.  We’d still secure a few heads of sheep and the farmer would be happy.  And the king would have his gold.”

 

“Very good, son,” Rumpelstiltskin praised.  He read through three more, each of them landing in the discard pile, their requests being either too vapid or vain to pay heed.  He chuckled before reading the next one aloud to share with Bae.  “Oh, Dark One, an evil witch has cursed my true love and transformed him into a salamander.  I’m deathly afraid of lizards and beg your assistance,” he said, his tone shrill as he mimicked the woman who’d written the letter.  “Please help.”  He tossed the letter into the _maybe_ pile.  “Too bad for her.  All she’d have to do is kiss him, if it was indeed her true love, and the curse would be broken.”

 

Baelfire stared at his father, frozen in stunned disbelief before he leapt to his feet, his eyes the size of saucers.  “Papa!  You’re a genius.”  He quickly hugged his father and ran for the door.

 

“Bae, where are you going?  You said you’d help with this!”

 

“I have to tell Morraine!” he called back over his shoulder.

 

“Tell her what?” he frowned, puzzled over his son’s odd behavior.  He shifted his focus to the last letter wishing to be done with the task and get back to his spinning.  Perhaps now he’d be able to concentrate.

 

He lifted his cup to his lips and took a long swallow of his tea as he broke the seal on the rich blue stationary, admiring the delicate penmanship as he began to read.

 

_Dear Sir_

Hmm, he liked that.  This one showed respect for his power at least, and seemed courteous as well.  The desperation he sensed was indeed greater than any of the previous letters and it intrigued him.

 

_I seek your aid on a difficult matter.  My father’s kingdom is being threatened by ogres.  Our troops have been decimated and there is little hope for our survival without your help.  He does not know I am writing to you.  In fact, he has expressly forbid me to contact you.  However, I feel we could come to terms on a deal that would be beneficial to us both.  I beseech you to come here to Avonlea to meet with me in person._

_Yours Respectfully,_

_Belle Beaumont, high princess of Avonlea_

 

The Dark One tittered a shrill giggle, the sound echoing throughout the cavernous hall as he reread the letter.  “I _beseech_ you,” he mused, impressed by her flowery speech.  She was obviously a well-educated little royal.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt _eager_ to make a deal with someone.  Yet, what could she possibly have to give him in return?  Surely she wouldn’t be silly enough to offer gold.  And the price to rid her kingdom of ogres would indeed be steep.  He wondered if she would turn away from his price or accept it for the benefit of her people.  That would show her true measure. 

 

He slowly rose from his chair and summoned his coat.  A frown twisted his mouth when it wasn’t the one with the spikes, his most intimidating article of clothing, but then remembered that Morraine hated it enough to _accidentally_ ruin in the wash.  He supposed the russet colored dragon hide would have to suffice.

 

Rumpelstiltskin tucked the letter away in the inside pocket of his coat and left the hall, calling out to his children.  They appeared at the top of the grand staircase, peering down at their father.  “Bae, Morraine, I’ll be gone most of the day.  Please stay within the castle grounds while I’m away.”

 

“We will, papa,” Morraine promised, her cheeks flushed with excitement over the news Baelfire had shared with her.  “Will you bring us a sweet when you return?”

 

The wizard’s gaze softened as he gazed up at his daughter.  “Of course, pet.  Be good, you two, and stay out of trouble.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

The Dark One arrived in Avonlea shortly after nightfall.  The stable at the Dark Castle now housed not one, but two prized thoroughbreds and the king of the north was pleased and relieved to have his coffers full once again.  Yet, Rumpelstiltskin wished he’d have known King Norbert was so bloody long-winded.  It had come as a surprise that the jovial royal would treat the imp as if he were a long lost friend instead of a feared magical being.  He’d welcomed him into his home, offered him food and drink and given him a grand tour of the stables before even mentioning the reason for seeking the Dark One’s aid.  It was just odd.

 

Now, due to the king’s hospitality, he was late.  Granted, he did things according to his own timetable, but he’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of the little princess in the bright light of day.  He was interested to see how she dealt with her people, how she treated her servants and wished to discover little nuances about her character that she wouldn’t be wont to reveal in his presence.  He glanced up at the sky and shuddered, the red hue and haze from the bonfires on the battlefield, leagues away, bringing back memories he’d rather keep buried in the past.

 

The palace sat at the top of the hill, overlooking the sea, a modest sized village spread out below.  It wasn’t what one would expect from a bustling seaport town, however.  The villagers were subdued, quiet, hurrying about their tasks to seek refuge in their quaint cottage homes.  The destruction of war was steadily pounding closer and they seemed to know there would be no escape from its inevitable destruction. 

 

With a snap of his long spell clever fingers, he changed his clothes, swathing himself head to toe in inky black and topping it all with a fine cloak of ebony.  He pulled the hood over his wiry curls and blended in with the shadows.  He withdrew the letter from the inside breast pocket of his jacket and held it to his nose.  The faint traces of roses and lilacs wafted up to him, the lingering scent of the princess herself.  Of that he had little doubt.  It should be easy to hone in on her location within the stone fortress of marble and brick.

 

He kept to the dark unlit corners of the room where the shadows were deepest.  He knew she was there, her essence lingering in the cool air of the chamber.  The little pampered precious in her robin’s egg blue gown worriedly paced the plush hearth rug as she wrung her hands.  He could practically feel the fear and desperation emanating from her as if it were a tangible thing.  The Dark One raised his head and sniffed the air appreciatively and it took quite an effort for Rumpelstiltskin to beat him back into the dark corners of his mind.  This deal was not for the demon, but for the man he’d sworn to be for his family.  He would not let the darkness overtake him and disappoint his children.

 

“He’s not coming,” the girl said, her voice as melodic as wind chimes in the summer.  The sound tingled pleasantly along his skin and he couldn’t help but think it would be devastatingly beautiful to hear her laugh.  Long chestnut curls cascaded over her shoulder, revealing the gentle curve of her neck and the creamy expanse of the other and he found himself wondering what she would feel like pressed against him, his lips free to taste her skin and breathe in her scent.  And then she turned and he was drawn in to the clearest blue eyes he’d ever seen.  He could easily drown in those pools and lose himself forever.

 

The imp shook himself, trying to clear his head of his errant thoughts.  As a poor spinner he’d always found appreciation in beautiful things with the clear knowledge that he would never be fortunate enough to possess them.  Now that he had unlimited power, he collected things, surrounded himself with beauty and mystery for the simple fact that he could.  Yet, never had he coveted something as strongly as he did this girl.  Oh, this doesn’t bode well, he mused.

 

“Calm yourself, your highness.  You’ve sent your request, against my better judgment, I might add.  All you can do is wait to see if he heeds your call and pray your father doesn’t find out what you’ve done if it doesn’t bear fruit.”

 

Belle cast her eyes on the woman in irritation.  “Do you think I don’t know that?” she snapped.  She was instantly remorseful when the woman set her sewing aside and sniffed indignantly.  “I’m sorry, Mildred.  I’m just a bit anxious.”

 

“That’s understandable.  Shall I leave you to prepare for bed, dear?” the lady in waiting asked, rising to her feet.

 

“Yes, please.  I suppose I shall try to sleep and hope he will come tomorrow,” Belle murmured dejectedly, her shoulders drooping.  “I just don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to hold off the ogres, how much longer before they breach the walls and lay waste to the kingdom.  How many more will suffer because of their greed?  Already the infirmaries are filled to overflowing with those maimed and mutilated beyond repair in our defense.”

 

“You should know, as much time as you spend there trying to offer comfort.”  The woman embraced the petite princess, wiping away her tears with a lace handkerchief.  “I will send Sarah to you, dear.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin sighed in exasperation as the older woman left the chamber only to be replaced by a young maid.  Was the girl _never_ alone?  How was he to conduct business with a room full of servants hovering about?  With a lazy twirl of his hand, the maid froze, a faint red haze enveloping the girl.  The princess’s brow furrowed in confusion as she stared at the girl, approaching cautiously.  She waved her hand rapidly before the maid’s face, calling her name.

 

“She’s unharmed, dearie,” he assured her as he stepped from the shadows.  “I just thought you’d appreciate a bit of privacy.”

 

Her lips parted on a gasp as she whirled to face him, her eyes large and round in her ashen face.  “Oh!  Y-You…You startled me.”

 

“Yes, I do seem to have that effect on people.”  His nose wrinkled in amusement as he smirked at her, a giggle slipping past his thin lips.  His little eccentricities were meant to be off-putting, to intimidate and instill fear in those he dealt with.  He was not expecting her to curtsey and offer him a timid smile.

 

“I’m very pleased to meet you.  I am Belle,” she said, rising back to her full stature, diminutive as it was.  He noticed she was not vain enough to use her title during her introduction.  She, apparently, wanted them on an even keel, not princess and dark one, but rather Belle and Rumpelstiltskin.  His fascination with her grew.

 

He in turn, bowed low from the waist, his eyes never leaving her.  “Rumpelstiltskin, at your service,” he trilled, the r’s rolling silkily from his tongue.  He paced around her, tapping his fingers together before him in that nervous habit of his.  He was perplexed with her behavior.  The tension that had radiated from her earlier seemed to have drained away now that he’d shown himself.  She didn’t quake in fear, nor look on him with anything other than curiosity in her cerulean gaze and it left him somewhat shaken.  Where was her sense of self preservation, he wondered. 

 

“Would you care to sit down? I could ring for tea if you’d like,” she said softly, gesturing to the sitting area before the hearth.

 

Rumpelstiltskin rounded her, pressing in close as his face came to rest mere inches from her own, invading her personal space to throw her off guard.  She didn’t back down, her eyes tracing every line of his face.  “This isn’t a social call, pet.  I believe you had a specific purpose for my visit here this evening.”

 

Belle tilted her head to the side, her lip disappearing between her teeth.  “Regardless,” she finally answered after what seemed an eternity.  “It is my responsibility to make you feel welcome in my home.”

 

Butterflies took flight in her belly at his close proximity, but she couldn’t be certain if it was fear or something unknown, something she’d never experienced before.  He was fascinating with his green-gold skin and wild curls that her fingers itched to touch, wondering if it was as soft as it looked.  His wide amber eyes and steady gaze drew her in until she felt lost in an abyss of whirling emotion and she had to wonder if it was his magic that had her so bespelled or the man himself.  The tension broke as he seemingly danced away from her, his movements so fluid and practiced it left her breathless.

 

“Perhaps…later,” he mused, turning away from her to catch his bearings.  He wasn’t expecting his body’s reaction to her closeness.  The unfamiliar tightening of his skin, the unwelcome surge of blood through his veins, spreading to his lower extremities left him pondering things better left for the darkness of his bedchamber in the dead of night.  What was it about this little royal that enflamed him so?  He stopped his wanderings at a bookshelf overflowing with tomes, his fingers dancing over the spines.  “Your letter mentioned something about ogres?”

 

“Yes,” Belle said, clasping her hands before her to still their trembling as she forced herself to focus on the business at hand.  “For quite some time.  They have slowly been advancing from the south,” she explained, moving to the small table in the corner hidden behind a screen. 

 

He followed her without hesitation, his eyes widening as he took in the map dotted with markers to chart the army’s movement.  “I find it odd for a princess to have such knowledge of warfare.”

 

She snorted.  “Be that as it may,” she scoffed, drawing his attention back to the map.  “Once they reached this pass in the mountains, they seemed to focus their attention more west towards Stratfordshire.  We were hoping they would continue in that direction, but it was not to be.  Queen Honoria’s troops were able to push them back here,” she pointed her dainty finger once more and he leaned in to study the markings.  “When they couldn’t breach her line, they continued on north a bit before turning northeast and encroached upon our borders.”

 

The sorcerer regarded her through narrowed eyes.  What he wouldn’t give to be able to sit down with her and slowly uncover each and every one of the secrets she hid behind her lovely cerulean eyes.  He’d never encountered anyone like her.  She couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen, yet she had the mind of a seasoned warrior.  He found himself contemplating what else she might have tucked away in that brilliant head of hers.

 

“Rumpelstiltskin?” she queried, laying her hand on his forearm.  He could feel the heat radiating from her palm and it made his skin itch with want.  It had been a long time since someone other than his children had touched him, much less willingly.  For her to do so _and_ appear so comfortable about it merely puzzled him further.

 

“Do continue, dearie,” he said, hardly recognizing the husky tone that slipped into his usually shrill voice.

 

“A year ago, they breached the mountains here and ravaged the first village within our borders.  They’ve been steadily advancing ever since.  My father…” she paused, a note of bitterness creeping into her speech.  “…he formed an alliance with Lord Peverell to strengthen our numbers.  My betrothed,” she spat the word as if it were something vile on her tongue, “even now fights with what remains of our army, but it is only a matter of time until they too are defeated.”

 

“I take it you are displeased with the match?” he trilled, unable to hold back the giggle that issued from his throat.  He couldn’t help but find pleasure in her evident disgust with her betrothed.  “Is he not your twoo wuv?”

 

She snorted, something he was becoming to see as an endearing quality.  “Hardly.  Gaston is a brainless lummox.  It would be more satisfying to have a conversation with his prized broadsword than with him.  I doubt he’s ever opened a book in his life,” she sneered in disdain.

 

Rumpelstiltskin edged closer to the table, perching one hip against its edge as he regarded her steadily.  He pointed a blackened nail towards the map.  “What would you have done differently, pet?  If you’d had the chance to call the shots?”  He had the innate need to discover if his instincts about her were correct.

 

She met his curious gaze with one of her own, wondering why he would think she would have done things differently.  “I…ah…” she pointed to the mountains bordering Avonlea.  “Here, this pass.  I would have collapsed the pass, barring their entry.  By the time they found a way around, their focus would have shifted to a different kingdom.  I’m not so cold-hearted as to say I wish death and destruction on some unsuspecting kingdom, but you have to realize _my_ people come first with me.”

 

“It would take quite a bit of magic to rid your lands of the ogres, dearie,” he intoned, removing himself from the cramped space and moving out into the main part of her chamber once more.  “I don’t see what you could have to offer that would be valuable enough to cover the price.”

 

Belle sighed and squared her shoulders.  This was the part she’d been dreading.  She knew the Dark One always demanded a price, but she didn’t know if she had anything of value to offer him.  “I cannot barter with Avonlea’s wealth as it is not mine to give.  Your deal will be with me, not my father, therefore I can only give what belongs to me.  I have a small parcel of land bequeathed to me by my mother as well as—“

 

He waved a dismissive hand.  “Eh tet tet tet,” he hissed irritably.  “I have no desire to take your lands, pet.  Do I look as though I’m in need for real estate?  No.  I require something a bit more… _precious_ ,” he said, his nose crinkling as he smiled wickedly at her.

 

“Well,” she said impatiently, crossing her arms over her chest.  “What is it that you want?”

 

This was his chance, he reflected gleefully.  He could acquire the maid he needed and save her kingdom in one fell swoop.  How amusing would it be to see another royal brought low in the face of one of his deals?  Pompous, self-righteous, entitled nobles bent on crushing the masses beneath their elegantly appointed feet.  He could show her there was more to life than bringing misery down upon those less fortunate than herself and glean the knowledge behind her wise eyes in the process.  She would make a fine companion for his children and relieve some of the burden from his shoulders in the process.  And she would have no choice.  She would be his…forever.

 

“What I want is for you to be…my _wife_.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, her eyes rounding as her rosebud mouth parted on a gasp of disbelief.

 

He clamped down hard on his tongue, his teeth scoring the tender muscle until he tasted the metallic copper of his own blood.  _Stupid!  Stupid!  Stupid!  Maid…I meant to say maid!_ The Dark One laughed raucously in the back of his mind.  What was he thinking!?  Well, it was too late to back out now and besides…she would never agree to sacrifice herself for her kingdom.  Royals weren’t known for their selflessness.

 

“You heard me, pet.  I’ll banish the ogres from your little kingdom if you’ll agree to be my wife.”  He stepped closer, his fingers slipping beneath her chin to tilt her face up to meet his gaze.  “Tell me,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning over her lips.  “Are the lives of your countrymen, the lives of the old and infirm, the lives of the wee babes still in swaddling not worth the sacrifice of your virtue?”

 

The breath hitched in her chest, the butterflies returning to her stomach to torment her with unease and fear…a fear she hadn’t known in his presence thus far…swept in to freeze her heart.  What kind of monster would she be to let innocents die for the sake of her own life?  Would it be so terrible to commit herself to him?  He was a man after all, somewhere hidden beneath the gold of his skin and the magic he wore like a cloak.  Surely, he could be no worse than Gaston.  And if it would bring peace to her kingdom…

 

Her voice was small, timid, barely a whisper as she locked her determined gaze to his, but she was steadfast in her decision.  “I will.”

 

The imp’s long fingers cupped her cheek, his thumb ghosting over her full bottom lip in a soft caress as he gaped at her in disbelief.  “You would give yourself to the beast, pet?” he asked incredulously.  She would change her mind any moment now, he was sure.  Yet she wasn’t pulling away from his touch in revulsion, nor was she cowering in fear from his closeness.  “There won’t be any changing your mind after the deal is struck.  Forever, pet.  That’s a long time.”

 

Belle chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip, weighing every aspect of what she was about to do and nodded.  “I _will_ marry you.”

 

Well wasn’t this a day full of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A slip of the tongue and BAM!...he found a bride after all. Like you didn’t see that coming. Lol. I have to say I am amazed by the response to the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much. I love all the comments and reviews you’ve left and look forward to more. Next chapter, ogres are vanquished, Belle becomes a bride and Rumpelstiltskin meets his father in law. Let’s just say he’s less than impressed (o: Thank you all so much for the kudos, favs, follows and such! My muse is just ecstatic <3


	3. The Dark One's Bride

 

“I think I’d like that tea now, dearie,” he murmured, backing away from her before he did something stupid…like kiss her.  What the hell was wrong with him?  He’d been married to Milah for nearly ten years and he’d never felt such an insane rush of attraction for her.  Yet this little princess…a hated _royal,_ no less…had turned him into a stuttering stammering fool in a span of minutes.

 

With a sharp snap of his fingers, a tea service appeared on the low table in her sitting area.  She smiled, gathering her wits about her.  “Oh, how clever.  That must come in handy when you want a snack in the middle of the night,” she murmured coyly as she strolled over to the settee and sat down.  She reached for the china pot and poured, glancing up at him as he paced over to the mantle and rested his forearm against the wood.  “How do you take yours?”

 

“Two sugars and a slice of lemon,” he replied, watching her with interest.  Did nothing rattle the girl?  He accepted the cup from her and sipped gingerly, not quite as comfortable as she was with the silence that had fallen between them.  It wasn’t often the Dark One found himself at a loss for words, but this mere slip of a girl had him perplexed.

 

She regarded him shyly from beneath her lashes over the rim of her cup.  “So…is there something you need me to sign or will a verbal agreement suffice?”

 

 _Oh, clever, pet_ , he mused.  “Hm…when you introduce me to your father and explain the way of things, I suppose it would be beneficial to have a contract to present to him.”

 

Belle gasped as a long length of parchment appeared next to the tea service in a wisp of crimson smoke.  He withdrew a raven’s feather quill from within the folds of his cloak and held it out to her, but she refused to take it.  Instead, she lifted the contract and began to read. 

 

“What are you doing?” he asked, moving closer to her, his brows drawn low over his eyes in bewilderment.

 

“Reading the contract,” she stated, her tone indicating he should have known that.

 

 _Well, this is a first_ , he thought wryly, snapping his mouth closed before he could ram his foot farther inside.  She continued to surprise him. Most people signed the contract without ever having a desire to read it.  It made his job quite enjoyable to see them promise _anything_ without fully understanding what they were actually signing away.  Then when the time came to collect, they balked.  Too bad for them.  His little princess, however, was much more intelligent than his average client.

 

The contract was simple and straight-forward, yet she read over it as if he had a hidden agenda.  Usually he did, but that was beside the point.  For some reason, he’d wanted it to be clear to her that he expected little from their union.

 

Her eyes lifted to his, surprise darkening the clear blue irises.  “You have children?  Are they yours or merely those acquired in your deals?”

 

“Yes,” he snapped, his lips curling back into a snarl, “they’re mine.”  His eyes narrowed dangerously.  “You shouldn’t always believe what you read, pet.  If I make a deal for a child, it’s to provide it with a new home with a family better able to care for it than the wretch bargaining it away…not to make into stew.”

 

A fiery blush rose to her cheeks as she met his steady gaze.  “I’m sorry.  I grew up listening to the servants speak of the Dark One in less than flattering terms and the research I conducted before contacting you wasn’t very forthcoming.  It consisted mostly of folktales that seem convoluted at best.”

 

He didn’t answer, but some of the tension drained out of him as he continued to sip his tea.  She returned her attention to the contract, focusing on the simple expectations of their arrangement.  Basically, in exchange for his protection and the dispensation of their ogre problem, Belle would be wife to him and mother to his children with all that entailed.

 

“Is there anything you wish to add?” he asked quietly, concerned that she was taking longer than necessary to read over the contract.

 

Belle bit her lip as she set the contract back on the table and reached out for the quill he’d provided.  “My family?  Will I be able to visit them?”

 

His eyes narrowed in contemplation.  “Perhaps, but not until after the first year.  We shall see how well we get on together and if I am amenable I will let you visit.”  He was surprised at himself for giving that much.  He did _not_ like to share, even though it would only be with her father.  “You’re sure you wish to do this?” he asked, giving her one last chance to change her mind.

 

She nodded and swiftly scrawled her name next to his at the bottom of the contract in bold black ink.  He took it from her and rolled it carefully, tucking it away inside the dragon hide coat he wore beneath his cloak.  “The deal is struck, then,” she murmured, rising to her feet to face him.

 

“Not quite, dearie,” he said, his hand reaching forward to lock about her wrist as he pulled her to him.  She gasped as his arms closed about her, trapping her in his embrace.  He lowered his face to hers, his lips mere inches from her own.  “Have you a kiss for your betrothed…to seal the deal?”

 

Her eyes widened as her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips.  Her gaze moved from his abnormally large eyes to his lips and back again in her nervousness.  “I-I’ve never k-kissed a man before,” she mumbled, the blush returning to her cheeks.  Yet, what was a mere kiss when she’d have to soon endure a wedding night?

 

“Really?  Not even the lummox?” he chuckled, the rich warm tones so different from the piercing giggles he’d treated her to before.  It surprised her to hear him sounding so human.

 

“I’m surrounded by servants and my ladies in waiting and guards at all times.  It would be the height of impropriety to go about kissing someone who isn’t my husband.  Everything I know, I’ve learned from my books,” she admitted wryly, her fingers twisting in his cloak where her hands were trapped between them against his chest.  “Reading about something and actually doing it are quite different.”

 

He rested his brow to hers, nuzzling his nose against her own.  “Do I frighten you, pet?” he asked, realizing if he wanted some measure of happiness with the little princess, he’d have to be gentle with her.

 

“A little.  I’m sure when I know you better, I won’t be.”  She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips tentatively to his, unsure of exactly what to do.

 

A little noise of appreciation sounded in the back of his throat as some of the stiffness receded from her form, her gentle curves relaxing into his lean lines, her body fitting against his as though she were made to be there in his arms.  His lips glided over hers, coaxing her lower lip between his own in a gentle kiss, sipping at the soft flesh until she sighed.  Her cheeks were flushed with the first bloom of passion as he raised his hands from her waist to cradle her face in his warm palms.

 

“That’ll do, dearie.  The deal is indeed struck,” he murmured, taking a step back. She was in fact truly his, the magic having bound them tightly together.  “I shall return for you within one hour, so if there is anything you wish to bring with you, I suggest you pack.  As soon as we can see to our wedding and break the news to your father, we’ll be off to the Dark Castle.”

 

Belle grasped his sleeve tightly in her cold hand, numb from the whirling sensations coursing through her body.  “W-Where are you going?”

 

He tittered a giggle, all signs of the gentle man of moments ago having disappeared as he became the dark mage once more.  “I believe you have an ogre problem to be dealt with.”  He sauntered over to the open archway that led out to her balcony.  “Must make the wife happy, y’know.”

 

Belle shook her head, collapsing down onto the settee as he vanished in a puff of violet smoke.  Her mind whirled as she heaved in a deep cleansing breath, wondering just what she’d gotten herself into.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle might have stared at the archway he’d disappeared through for a full five minutes before her maid startled her back to awareness.  She’d practically forgotten the girl was even there.  She needed to hurry if she were going to be ready in the appointed time.  An hour, really? What did he expect in so short an amount of time, she grumbled under her breath.  How was she supposed to pack up her life in the allotted time with no help?

 

Her feet carried her swiftly across the room to yank the large portmanteau from beneath the bed, ignoring the maid’s queries as to what she was doing.  She didn’t have time to explain and didn’t know how she could come up with a decent explanation if she did.  _Not to worry, dear.  I’m just marrying the Dark One and leaving for parts unknown…immediately._   Yes, that would go over well.  She’d no doubt send for Mildred, who in turn would send for the king, who in turn would lock her in a tower for the rest of her natural born life.  That would be the best outcome.  Being sent to the clerics…which was more likely, knowing her father…would be the worst.

 

A hysterical giggle found its way past her lips as she yanked open her wardrobe to select a minimum of five dresses to hastily pack away in her trunk.  Petticoats, stockings, shifts, and various other sundry items followed.  Her favorite books…which she narrowed down to ten…hair bits and bobs, her mother’s jewelry box, shoes and anything else she thought she might need right away were all tossed in before she turned to her maid to help her secure the latch.

 

“Highness, where are you going?  Is your father planning a trip?” the maid asked, eyeing the princess suspiciously.

 

“Um…not exactly,” Belle hedged, wringing her hands as she paced the length of the hearth rug.  This was going to be difficult to explain and finally decided not to even try.  She could add it to the list of _impossible_ things she’d had to face that day.

 

She still found it unbelievable that in the course of two hours she’d made a deal with a dark wizard to bind her life to his.  What did she really know of him aside from what she’d read in her books?  What if he was cruel or mistreated her? She snorted derisively over her errant thoughts.  She refused to judge him on folk tales and rumors alone.  It was her responsibility to get to know him, to dig deep behind the mask he seemingly wore to keep others from getting close.  She, in fact, knew little to nothing about her former betrothed.  She hadn’t wanted to know Gaston, had been repulsed by his boorish behavior, but she’d had no choice when her father had made the match.  She had silently accepted her fate for the good of her people and her kingdom as a good little princess should.  At least with Rumpelstiltskin, she’d been able to be brave, to choose her own fate.

 

If her father had listened to her when she’d offered advice on how to block the pass and keep the ogres out, none of this would be happening.  Because she was a woman, her opinions mattered little in the grand scheme of things.  She wondered if her betrothed would think so little of her, or if he would listen when she offered advice.  Excitement coursed through her as she thought of him.  It was disturbing, this attraction she felt for him.  What made him so different from the men of her father’s court?  Well, aside from the dark magic and unusual complexion, that is.  She had to wonder if he might harbor the same attraction for her.  Their kiss flitted across her mind’s eye and she shivered, remembering the gentle persuasion of his lips against hers.  She doubted Gaston would have been so patient with her.  He was more likely to take and ask questions later, if at all.

 

“A copper for your thoughts, pet,” his low seductive voice whispered softly against the shell of her ear as his chin came to rest on her shoulder.  His arms slipped about her waist as he drew her back against his chest and she had to stifle a shriek of alarm at his sudden appearance.

 

Her eyes sought out Sarah and she breathed a sigh of relief to see she was once again frozen in place by his magic.  Yet, she had to ask, “Is that really necessary?”

 

“Well, I thought it would be better than having her running off for the royal guard, screaming that the Dark One had come to kill you all,” he retorted, his unusual laughter ringing throughout the room as he released her.  He paced over to her portmanteau, pointing at it with a long finger.  “Is this all you wish to bring, pet?”

 

“It’s all I felt necessary to bring.”

 

A wisp of magic and the trunk vanished to await her in her new home.  He held out his hand to her.  “Very well.  Shall we go?”

 

Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth as her stomach fluttered with trepidation and just a mild hint of fear, but she slipped her hand in his as she stepped to his side, his warm fingers curling about her own.  Her head spun as his magic enveloped them, transporting them to the village.  “Where did you go earlier, when you left me?” she asked, unable to avoid the question that had been plaguing her.  “Did you really have time enough to—“

 

“I banished them all, dearie,” he assured her.  He wouldn’t tell her the details and provide unnecessary fodder to fuel her nightmares.  He reached out to tilt her face up to his.  “Look at me when you speak with me, pet.  Don’t fear me.”  He brushed a stray curl behind her ear and smiled sadly.  “I’m not the most pleasant man in the realm, but I think we will get on well together if we put forth the effort.  It’s not as though I’m expecting you to love me.”

 

She stumbled slightly in surprise as he urged her towards the small chapel in the center of the village, unmindful of where she was going as she stared silently at his profile.  _Love?  Could she come to love him?_ He’d been nothing but gentle in their dealings thus far.  Perhaps, if he continued to be kind, they could form a friendship at least, but she was dubious at best that it could grow into more.  Yet, she was more than willing to try.  As he’d said, forever was a long time.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle stared down at the glittering rings on her left hand, deep in concentration as she paused outside the council room, her stomach twisted in knots.  She shouldn’t be surprised that he’d gifted her with such a treasure, the tanzanite stone cut into the shape of a heart and surrounded by tiny diamonds set into a platinum band, a slimmer band beneath it.  It was lovely, fitting her finger perfectly.  She was thankful it was dainty and in no way ostentatious, always having preferred simple jewelry.  She shuddered at the thought of her aunt’s five carat diamond betrothal ring, wondering how the woman ever managed to lift her hand. Betrothed and married in the space of a few hours.  It was almost more than her already befuddled senses could contemplate.

 

She still found it hard to believe that she was married.  Married!!  The word itself seemed foreign to her ears.  It amazed her just how persuasive her new husband could be.  With just a few thinly veiled threats and a large purse of gold, he’d convinced the nervous friar to perform the ceremony.  In twenty minutes her life had changed.  With a chaste kiss to her lips, she was pronounced his bride and now there was only the small matter of explaining everything to her father before she could begin her new life as a wife and mother.  She felt sick.

 

“Are you alright, pet?” he asked, his brow creased with concern as he lifted his hand to knock on the heavy oak door.  “You look a little peaky.”

 

Belle shook her head.  “Not even a little.”

 

He arched a brow as he stared down at her.  “Where’s the brave little princess that summoned the Dark One, eh?  Has all your courage fled now that you have to face _daddy_?” he asked, putting a pronounced emphasis on the word which only made her stomach churn with dread.

 

Her eyes burned like twin coals of fury as she narrowed them on him.  “He’s my father, Rumpelstiltskin.  He’s going to feel betrayed that I’ve done this without his blessing.”

 

His mouth gaped in a mock gasp.  “I do believe my little pet has claws.”  He twittered that infernal giggle again before sobering, his visage leaving no mistake as to just how serious he was.  “You did what needed to be done.  Eventually he’ll see the true extent of your sacrifice.”  His knuckles rapped sharply against the wood, not giving her a chance to argue further.

 

The imp tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as the doors opened and he led her into the room.  A celebratory atmosphere greeted them, for which Belle was grateful, the room teeming with her father’s advisors and several battle worn knights fresh from the war, her former betrothed included.  She was able to glean some of the conversation as she approached the head of the long table where her father sat.

 

“I’m telling you, sire, I thought we were all done for.  Then it just stopped.  They vanished as if by magic,” Gaston related, a huge grin on his face.  “The war is over!”

 

“Of course it was by magic, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin tittered, his shrill childlike giggle drawing the eye of everyone in the room.  “Mine!” It was all Belle could do to keep from rolling her eyes.  She might well have if she hadn’t noticed her father’s pale countenance.

 

“Belle, what is the meaning of this?” he asked, his voice unsteady as he strode forward to _rescue_ his daughter from the clutches of the monster in their midst.  “What are you doing here, demon?  Take your hands off my daughter!”

 

“Papa, please!” she shrieked as his beefy hand latched onto her arm and he tried to pull her forcefully away from Rumpelstiltskin.  The council was murmuring heatedly amongst themselves and Gaston had drawn his sword, ready to jump into the fray.

 

The sorcerer retained his grip on her and gently tugged her back to his side as a mild jolt of electricity shot from her arm and into the king’s hand.  Maurice drew back his stinging hand as if he’d been burned.  Gaston edged closer, raising his sword to threaten the imp. 

 

Rumpelstiltskin touched the tip of the sword and the entire blade turned to ash, leaving the knight to stare down in horror at the jewel encrusted hilt.  “Really, dearie?  That the best you can do?” he snorted.

 

“Enough, all of you!” Belle hissed, the sweet shy girl who admitted she’d never kissed a man, disappearing behind her princess mien.  “If you will calm down for just a moment, I will explain.”

 

“What’s to explain,” he scoffed, the council members moving aside as he approached the table and withdrew the contract and a marriage certificate from his coat.  “See for yourself.”

 

Belle groaned and buried her face in her free hand.  “I made a deal with Rumpelstiltskin,” she said, amazed at the calmness she was able to force into her voice.  “He banished the ogres in exchange for—“

 

“You married him?!” the king thundered, turning wide angry eyes on her.  He tossed the certificate bearing both their signatures onto the table as if it were rubbish.  “It’s invalid.  You were already bound in a legal contract with your betrothed.”

 

“And my deal with the Dark One rendered it null and void.  It was for the benefit of the entire kingdom, papa.  Besides, you made the contract with Lord Peverell for that match without even so much as consulting me on the matter.  This was _my_ choice,” she said in a heated tone as she met his cold gaze.

 

“I forbid it.  You are my heir and you have a responsibility to the crown.  I will not have you throw your life away on this… _beast_ ,” he sneered.

 

“He ended the war, papa!  He saved us and I will not go back on my word.  I’ve effectively accomplished what you wished.  You arranged my betrothal to Gaston to unite our armies in order to defeat the ogres.  He failed,” she cast a look of sneering disapproval at the lummox.  “I wanted no part of that alliance, yet you gave me no choice.  Rumpelstiltskin was… _is_ …my choice and I _will_ honor it.”

 

“You are to be queen—“

 

The warning growl that emitted from Rumpelstiltskin’s throat cut off the king’s diatribe.  “It sounds to me as though you’re more worried to be losing your heir rather than your daughter.”  Having a daughter of his own, it made his vision red with outrage to hear the king value Belle as nothing more than a tool to manipulate the crown.  He’d never force his precious Morraine into a marriage not of her choosing just to ally himself for his own gain.  “The point is moot, because as you can see, she is now my wife.  She’s no longer the high princess of Avonlea.  She is the Lady of the Dark Castle.”  He crowded into the king’s personal space, his eyes dark with menace despite the irritatingly comical smirk upon his face.  “It would behoove you to speak to her in a more respectful tone.”

 

“You can’t have her, beast,” The knight seethed, his teeth bared as he stepped forward, having had enough.  “She belongs to me.”

 

“I’m seriously debating that stipulation you had me add to the contract, pet.  I don’t know if I want you to be able to visit,” Rumpelstiltskin said in an aside.

 

Belle wearily pinched the bridge of her nose as the pressure began to build behind her eyes.  “And I’m thinking I should have just left a note to say goodbye, but I didn’t want them pounding down the front gates and scaring the children.”

 

“What children?” Gaston asked, his focus easily shifting to the most irrelevant part of her statement.

 

“Never you mind, dearie,” the imp snarled.

 

She squeezed his arm gently.  “Husband, might we leave now?  There is no getting through to my father when he’s like this.  Please?” she asked, her eyes pleading with him.  There was no telling what would happen if her father happened to push him too far.

 

“Belle, please!” Maurice begged, unable to believe that she’d gone behind his back after he’d expressly forbid her to contact the vile demon.  “You cannot do this!”

 

The sorcerer gathered up the documents on the table and tucked them back into the folds of his jacket as she slipped from his grasp to embrace her father.  “I did what I thought was best, papa.  The kingdom is safe and will recover from its losses to become even more prosperous than before.  You will find another heir.  Lord knows I have enough cousins to see to the job.”

 

His eyes hardened to tiny chips of ice as his hand clamped over her wrists, pulling her further away from her new husband.  He nodded to Gaston.  “He can’t very well take you away if he’s dead, now can he?” he hissed menacingly.

 

She whirled away, struggling to free herself from his punishing grip, her eyes wide with terror as Gaston quickly unsheathed the dagger from his belt and plunged it into Rumpelstiltskin’s heart.  The force of the blow sent his lithe frame plummeting to the floor as dark viscous red oozed from the wound.  “No!”

 

Seeing the dark wizard lying motionless on the floor, the king released her.  Belle rushed to his side, dropping to her knees as her hands fluttered uselessly over the handle of the dagger, protruding from his chest.  “Rumpel—“ she cried, tears stinging her eyes.  No, this couldn’t be happening.  She’d just found him.  She couldn’t lose him before they’d even had a chance to begin their life together.  The realization was startling.  How could she care so deeply when she’d known him for barely five hours?  “Rumpelstiltskin…”

 

He groaned, his left hand closing over the hilt as his large amber eyes fluttered open.  “They never learn, pet,” he drawled, sitting up and glaring at the king and his entourage.  “And as for you,” he growled, rising to his feet to face the knight.

 

Gaston blanched, all color retreating from his face as the Dark One advanced on him.

 

Before his little bride could protest, he snapped his fingers with a loud crack.  Gaston was enveloped in a swirl of thick crimson smoke.  When it cleared, the imp bent to retrieve what was left of him, a rose, so vivid a red it was near blinding in its beauty.  He presented it to her with a bow, and tittered a shrill giggle.  “For you, my lady wife…if you’ll have it?  Something ugly and despicable transformed into a thing of beauty.”

 

Belle took the rose in her numb fingers, amazed he hadn’t turned him into something as vile as the knight’s soul…or outright killed him, for that matter.  “Is…” she swallowed around the bile that was slowly rising to choke her.  “Is he going to stay this way?”

 

“If you wish it,” he said softly.  He was seething with rage, his vision red with bloodlust, but he was determined to keep the darkness at bay.  He wouldn’t unnecessarily frighten her before their marriage had even begun.  “It will be your choice.”

 

Her lips parted into a surprised smile.  No one ever asked her opinion.  She passed the rose to her father, never taking her eyes from her husband as she stepped to his side and laced her fingers with his.  “A day or two, but not forever,” she said, her lip disappearing between her teeth.  She leaned in close to whisper, “I thought surely you would kill him.”

 

“I made a promise to my wee ones and I am a man of my word.  Shall we go, pet?” he asked, offering his arm.

 

“Belle, please, you can’t leave—“

 

“Goodbye, papa,” she said, wrapping her small hand around the crook of his arm.  They walked towards the doors, vanishing in a swirl of magic as he teleported them to the village.

 

She only waited until they were safely away from the castle before she whirled on him, her hands tearing at the buttons of his shirt.  He squeaked in alarm and slapped her hands away, but it didn’t deter her.  She wasn’t going to give up until she could see the wound for herself.  The black silk ripped under her pawing fingers and she drew back in surprise when she saw the smooth unblemished flesh of his chest.  She gently probed the skin, her fingers brushing lightly against his ribs.

 

“I saw…how are you unharmed…” her eyes flashed dangerously.  “How are you not bleeding everywhere?!”

 

His gaze was warm as it settled on his new bride.  He was astonished at the level of concern radiating from her trembling form.  “Dark One, pet…immortal,” he explained in what he hoped was a soothing tone.  He straightened his clothes and removed the cloak from his shoulders, wrapping it about her.  “Don’t think you’ll get rid of me so easily.”

 

She hugged herself, hoping to quell the violent shivers threatening to snap her spine in half.  Whether from the definite chill in the air or her fear, she couldn’t be sure of the cause.  “I didn’t become a bride only to be made a widow in the space of a few hours,” she snapped,

 

“Then fortunately you won’t have to worry about that.”  He drew her into his side, offering her the warmth from his body against the cold.  “Come, pet.  We need to hurry.  I don’t like to leave the children for overlong and I’ve been gone most of the day.”

 

“How will we get there?” she asked curiously as he led her down the main road to the edge of the village.  As they walked, doors were slammed, shutters were drawn and gasps from the townsfolk whispered eerily upon the night air.

 

“Magic, of course,” he said as if there were no other option.

 

“Then why are we walking?” she asked, uncomfortable with the reaction of her people to the sorcerer at her side.  She stopped, her eyes filled with hurt as she caught his gaze.  “You wanted them to see me leave with you.”

 

“Yes.  I wanted them to see the sacrifice you made for _them_.  You bound yourself to a monster so that they might know peace.  And from the little I saw of your father, I’m certain it won’t last long.”  He drew the hood of his cloak up over her chestnut curls and pulled her into his arms, his magic already swirling about them.  “You are their hero, pet.  Never forget that.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We knew Moe wouldn’t take it well *snicker*. Really hope you’re enjoying this story. It’s kind of become an obsession of mine, lol. Next week Belle meets the children. I hope you’ll join us again. Thank you all for the overwhelming response to this story. I love reading all the comments and reviews. xoxoxox
> 
> For a pic of Belle's betrothal ring follow the link:  
> https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=Tanzanite+Wedding+Rings&FORM=IRBPRS&=0&=1#view=detail&id=D3652B7249A1A6A574FF3EE26C9A7EFF03CFECCD&selectedIndex=42


	4. Chapter 4

Baelfire paced absently before the hearth in the grand library which took up the better part of the east wing of the Dark Castle, his nose stuck in the most recent book his sister had thrust into his hands to read the passage she’d marked.  “So apparently we’ve been looking in the wrong books,” he grumbled miserably.  “This whole time we’ve been trying to find a magical solution—“

 

“It is a magical solution, Bae, just not the kind of magic we’ve been exploring,” Morraine cut him off impatiently.  She hated when he interrupted her while she was reading.

 

“I can’t believe we didn’t see it before.  When papa said true love’s kiss would break the curse…wait!  Will it break any curse or just sleeping curses?” he asked, scratching his head.

 

Morraine rolled her eyes.  Her brother lacked vision.  “Bae, this one tells of a witch who turned a prince into a frog and his true love broke the curse by kissing him.  There’s another over in this stack,” she sighed, tapping the correct pile of books on the coffee table, “where a sorceress cursed a prince to transform him into a rampaging beast and his true love broke it with her kiss.  So, I’m assuming it will work on papa’s curse as well.”

 

He whirled to face her, snapping the book shut.  “These books all have one thing in common, Morraine…one thing that leaves papa at a distinct disadvantage.  He’s not a prince.  All the people in these books were either a prince or princess.”

 

Morraine gave him a look that said _Seriously-are-you-kidding-me?_ “Sometimes I worry about you, Bae.”

 

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” he asked defensively.

 

“Nevermind,” she replied, shaking her long blonde locks away from her face with a flick of her head.  “These are stories, most of them fairy tales.  Fairy tales are written mostly for entertainment.  They’re somewhat based on fact, but more embellished than anything.  Apparently the authors believe the readers will enjoy the stories more if they’re about royals.  Who doesn’t wish to be a princess? Or a prince?  I doubt they would sell all that well if they were about some common peasant whose true love was the goat-herder’s daughter.”

 

He sat back on the settee next to her and rubbed at his tired eyes.  “I’d read it.”

 

She nodded.  “I would too, but that’s beside the point.  This is the best thing we’ve come across since we’ve been researching papa’s curse.  Even the books written about the Dark One have little to tell about how to break his curse.  Probably because the idiots who wrote the book were more interested in sensationalizing how awful he is.”

 

“Take that back, Morraine,” Baelfire yelled, his cheeks flushing with anger as he glowered at her.  “He’s not awful!”

 

“I know that,” she said with an imperious sniff as she arched a brow at him, clearly nonplussed by his show of temper.  “But papa isn’t the only man to have been cursed by the Dark One.  He hasn’t done any of the vile things written about him.”

 

The boy yawned, stretching his arms over his head as his eyes sought out the clock on the mantle.  “Where is he, do you suppose?  He should have been back hours ago?”

 

“He’ll be home soon,” she assured him.  “He never leaves us alone overnight, though he will often come in late.  You know that.”

 

Baelfire leaned his head against his sister’s shoulder, a new thought invading his active mind to trouble him.  “Morraine, it’s all well and good that we’ve finally found a way to break papa’s curse—“

 

“But?  I know I hear a ‘ _but’_ in there,” she snarked in a dry tone.

 

“Papa doesn’t have a true love.  How is he supposed to share true love’s kiss with someone when he doesn’t have one?” he asked morosely. 

 

Morraine laid her book down on her lap and looked at her brother with a coy smile.  “Everyone has a true love.  We’ll just have to help him find her.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle gaped as the smoke cleared, revealing the massive iron gates set into the high stone walls surrounding the massive fortress known as the Dark Castle, home to the Dark One and now…her.  They opened for their master and he ushered her inside, his hand barely brushing the small of her back as he led her forward.  The dirt path they’d stood on was replaced by light grey cobblestones, cleared of snow and ice.  She shivered as she took in the grounds’, topiaries capped with snow and trees barren of their leaves.  She couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like in the spring.  The fortress was surrounded by mountains on three sides and she was sure the pass on the other side of the now closed gates was the only way down to the forest road below.

 

“Are you cold, pet?  We’ll be inside in a moment where you can warm yourself by the fire.  I just thought you might like to see the courtyard before going inside,” he said, rubbing his warm palm over her numb fingers where they rested against his sleeve.

 

She smiled shyly up at him from beneath her lashes, still unsure of how to take his mercurial moods.  Her chest still felt warm from his earlier statement of how she was a hero to her people.  She’d always wanted to be a hero, but how could she when she was so sheltered by her father and used only for political gain.  “Thank you, Rumpelstiltskin.  Your home is lovely from what I’ve seen so far.”

 

“ _Our_ home, pet.  Don’t forget; you’re now the Lady of the Dark Castle.  It will obey your whims just as it will mine,” he murmured softly.  “There are a few things you should know.  Do _not_ leave the grounds under any circumstances unless I am here to accompany you.”  He stopped and held up a hand to quell her protests.  “It is for your protection, dearie, nothing more.  You are not my prisoner.  I have many enemies and the walls are warded to keep them out rather than to keep you in.”

 

He guided her up the front steps, hurrying their pace as she continued to shiver.  She was unused to the cold climate since Avonlea was farther south in the warm marshlands.  “Are you gone very often?” she couldn’t help but wonder aloud,  “because of your deals?”

 

The sorcerer arched a brow at her as he led her into the foyer and down a long corridor and into the Great Hall.  “It depends on how many requests I receive…some more, some less.”  A note of disdain entered his voice.  “Why, pet? Afraid you might have to spend too much time in my presence?”

 

“I didn’t say that,” she said defensively.  “I would just like to know the man I married.  How am I to do that if you’re away a great deal?”

 

He stared down at her, a puzzled frown knitting his brow.  He didn’t know quite what to make of the little princess.  Who would actually want to get to know him?  A tone chimed throughout the castle as a blazing fire roared to life in the hearth.  “Yes, well, we’ll see.”

 

“What was that?” she asked, startling at the noise, following him to stand on the hearth rug and stretch out her hands toward the flames to warm them.

 

“Oh…that?  Merely a chime to alert the children when I return.”  The doors burst open and two whirlwinds came at him at a full run.  He held up his hands to hold them off before they knocked him down, bracing his feet on the plush Agrabahan rug.  “Speaking of which…here they are now,” he snarked, unable to stall the genuine laugh of pleasure that spilled from his lips.  He gathered them close as their arms wrapped about his waist.  “What’ve I told you about running?  Save it for outdoors.  You’re going to fall and hurt yourselves one of these days,” he scolded gently.  “Or break something irreplaceable…like your necks!”

 

Belle’s eyes softened as she took in the loving family before her.  Warmth spread through her as she looked at the children and the love shining in their dark eyes for the imp who was now her husband.  The girl’s dark chocolate eyes were large, enhancing her lovely face, golden waves cascading about her shoulders.  She wore a robe in a lovely shade of rose pink, the color nearly matching the rosy blush of her cheeks.  The boy, with his dark hair and eyes was dressed in a royal blue robe, a bright welcoming smile on his lips.  They were beautiful and clearly exuded the confidence that they were well loved and cared for.

 

Rumpelstiltskin took each of their hands and drew them forward to meet Belle, curious wide eyes staring back at her.  “Baelfire, Morraine, I’d like you to meet Belle…my…er…my new wife.”

 

The children shared a wide eyed look with one another, their mouths gaping, before rushing forward to greet her.  They each took one of her hands and led her over to their father’s favorite chair before the hearth, urging her to sit.  Morraine dropped to her knees on the hearth rug to Belle’s left, Baelfire to her right.  And then the questions began.

 

“Did you really marry our papa?”

 

“Are you in love with him?”

 

“How did you meet?”

 

“What kind of distress did he save you from? You’re a damsel right?” that from Baelfire, his mind still on the multitude of tomes he’d poured over that evening.

 

It was Belle’s turn to gape as she sent a pleading look in her husband’s direction.  “Um…well…”

 

“Children!” the imp said, clapping his hands to get their attention.  “Where are your manners?  I know you’re excited, but Belle is surely exhausted after the events of today.  One question apiece and then off to bed with you.”

 

“Sorry, papa,” they answered in unison.

 

Belle giggled, thoroughly charmed by their precocious behavior, drawing their attention back to her.  “First of all, may I say, I am very pleased to meet you both.  And I will answer all of your questions, otherwise you will be so bursting with excitement you won’t be able to catch a wink of sleep.”  They sat back on their heels and grinned at each other.  “Which would you like to have answered first?”

 

“Are you a damsel in distress?  Was papa your prince come to rescue you?” Baelfire blurted out before Morraine could draw breath to ask her own.

 

Rumpelstiltskin smacked a palm to his brow and dragged it down his face.  _What the hell have they been reading?  I really need to go through the library again to have a look at their choice of literature.  Guh!!_   Yet, his little wife seemed to be happy to answer their questions.

 

“I was indeed, Baelfire—“

 

“You can call me Bae,” he interrupted.

 

“Very well, Bae it shall be,” she said, affectionately tapping the end of his nose.  “I called on your papa to save my kingdom from ogres.  Our armies were decimated by the beasts and we’d lost many of our soldiers.  He was our only hope,” she said, casting a grateful smile at the sorcerer.  “So, yes, I was indeed a damsel in distress.”

 

Morraine’s happiness seemed to deflate, her smile sad.  “So that’s how you met, a deal.  You were his price, weren’t you?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin looked down at his boots, unable to bear the sight of disappointment in his daughter’s eyes.

 

“That may be so, Morraine, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make a new life together as man and wife,” Belle said gently.  “Marriages are arranged all the time amongst royals to ally their kingdoms with others.  Sometimes it works out very nicely and the two come to love each other.”

 

“It doesn’t bother you that he’s the Dark One?” Baelfire asked, his brows disappearing beneath his fringe of brown curls.

 

“Enough!” the imp said sternly, finding that he didn’t want to hear the answer to that particular question.  It was enough that she’d married him, a bonus that she seemed to be getting on well with his children.  He didn’t expect more and he certainly didn’t deserve it.  Unfortunately, his feelings of unworthiness made his tone sharper than he would have preferred.  “Belle has answered all of your questions.  Time for bed.”

 

Belle rose with them and waited patiently as they each gave him a peck on the cheek before saying goodnight and dragging themselves from the hall.  “They are simply lovely, Rumpel…ah…can I call you Rumpel?  Your name is quite the mouthful.”  She was met with a blank stare and quickly amended, “Unless you’d prefer I didn’t.”

 

He felt a warm rush of pleasure at the shortened version of his name slipping so easily from her tongue, though he was loathe to admit it.  He couldn’t understand why this little slip of a girl had him so tied up in knots.  “As you wish, pet.”  He once again offered his arm and she stepped forward to tuck her hand inside his elbow.  “Come, I’ll show you to your room.  I’m sure you must wish to retire.”  It didn’t go unnoticed how her cheeks went up in flames.  “Tomorrow I’ll give you a tour of the castle.  I’m sure the children will want to join us for that.”

 

“I’d l-like that very much,” she stammered, her stomach churning with trepidation.  She watched him surreptitiously from the corner of her eye as he led her through the dimly lit corridors and up an ornate marble staircase to the second floor.  She was overwhelmed with the enormity of it all.  The palace she’d grown up in had been nowhere as large or as opulent as her new home.

 

Shiny suits of armor dotted the hallways, tapestries depicting various scenes from history hung from the stone walls, rich carpets covered the hardwood floor and door after door of the various room flew by them as he guided her swiftly through the castle.  There was no way she would find her way back to the Great Hall if left to her own devices.  She could very well get lost in the stone fortress and die of dehydration before anyone found her. 

 

Rumpelstiltskin paid little heed to the anxiety she exuded, as he was lost in his own.  He’d desperately wanted a mother for his children, to relieve some of his burden—and yes, most of his fears centered around the darkness that permeated his dark heart in that respect—and provide a better role model for them.  What if someday he lost the battle with the demon who shared his body and he couldn’t trust himself with them any longer.  He needed to know they would have someone to care for them should that happen, but was the little princess the right person for the task?  And now that she was his wife—he still couldn’t believe she’d actually agreed to take on that role—what was he to do with her?  He hadn’t been a husband in what seemed like forever and had failed miserably in that task. 

 

What if he tried to be a true husband to Belle and she rejected him just as Milah had done?  Could he live with her rejection if he let himself love her?  Why had he wanted a wife again?  Oh, yes, to set a good moral example for his children.  The noble streak that still resided in his soul was apparently going to be the death of him.  Well it was too late to turn back now.  The best he could do was guard his heart and hope for the best.

 

He was ready to tear his hair out in frustration from his nagging thoughts by the time they reached the corridor leading to the master suite.  He steered her past the double doors of his own chamber and into the one set aside for the lady of the castle. 

 

Belle couldn’t help but smile as she beheld the elegant appointment of the room.  The walls were painted a pale blue with white crown molding, lending a lightness of atmosphere that hadn’t been present in the rest of the castle.  A huge four poster bed dominated one wall, covered in a multitude of pillows in different shades of blue, cream and gold, the duvet a brilliant shade of periwinkle silk that her fingers itched to touch.  A modest sized hearth rested on the opposite wall, flanked by two richly upholstered wing back chairs she could see herself settling into with a good book.

 

Her feet sank into the plush carpet beneath her feet as he released her hand, encouraging her to explore.  “If there’s anything you wish me to change, just let me know, pet.  I want you to feel comfortable here.  This is your own space and I will not intrude upon it without your permission,” he said, lingering in the doorway.

 

Belle gaped at him in surprise.  What kind of man had she married that he thought she would deny him entry to her bedchamber.  “No, do come in, R-Rumpel,” she said shyly, beckoning him forward, her tongue tripping over his name as she was still trying to get used to the familiarity of it.  She smiled as he seemed to finally make up his mind and cross the threshold.

 

Her curiosity got the better of her and she didn’t hesitate to explore the rest of her chamber.  There was a small table on either side of the bed in a light teak wood, one holding a pitcher of water and a jeweled goblet, the other a small oil lamp.  A wardrobe in the same teak wood, elegantly carved by a greatly skilled craftsman stood against another wall next to a painted screen.  Two archways dominated the last wall and she couldn’t stop herself from disappearing through one of them to see what other surprises awaited her.  The lamps flared to life and her breath caught as one hand lifted to cover her heart, her eyes widening with pleasure.

 

Two walls were covered in beautiful teak shelves, not a space left bare and overflowing with books.  In the center of the room was a settee, two overstuffed chairs and a low table.  “There are so many books,” she gushed happily, turning her bright smile and twinkling eyes on him.

 

He shrugged.  “I’m a bit of a collector.  Knowledge is power after all, dearie.”

 

“I do love books.  I must confess there were times growing up in my father’s palace where I would seek solace in the library as often as possible.  Especially when I could slip away from my maids.”  Her tone turned wistful.  “There’s nothing better than being able to lose yourself in a good book.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin flicked a lazy hand in the direction of the far wall and the heavy velvet drapes of midnight blue swung open to reveal the view beyond.  His hand found the small of her back as he led her forward.  He tapped a blackened nail against the ornate gold handles on the French door that led out to the terrace shared by both his chamber and hers.  “In the spring, you might find some enjoyment sitting out on the terrace, don’t you think?” _Gods! I sound like an idiot!_ he thought miserably, trying to hide his insecurities behind a bland mask of indifference.  If she were happy, it would decrease the odds of her trying to break their deal and leaving. 

 

Belle took in the majestic view of the mountains and tilted her head to the side, trying to imagine what it would look like vibrant and green and dotted with wildflowers without the heavy blanket of snow.  The thought of bright sunshine and fresh air, surrounded by the beauty of spring and her new family brought a smile to her lips.  “Yes, I think so.”

 

Her eyes flickered briefly towards the bed and a rosy blush rose in her cheeks.  Thankfully, he seemed not to notice as he led the way back into the main room, opening a door in the same wall as the hearth.  “This is our bathing chamber,” he explained needlessly as she followed him into the room.  “It lies between our rooms…um…for us to share.”  He pointed to another door.  “Through there is my own chamber.”

 

She nodded, her eyes widening as she took in the room with its sunken marble tub, a modest sized water closet and double vanity.  One wall consisted of nothing but mirrors and several low padded divans were scattered about.  “Goodness!  It looks like something right out of _1001 Agrabahan Nights._ ”

 

Her husband huffed a short laugh.  “When I was redesigning the castle, Morraine insisted.  It was her idea that all the bathing chambers resemble something from her favorite tale.  Said it gave the rooms character.  She has quite the imagination.”  He brushed a stray curl behind her ear, unable to resist trailing his long fingers along her cheek.  “Does it meet with your approval, pet?”

 

Belle blushed again and chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip as that fluttering sensation returned to her belly at his light touch.  “It’s lovely,” she assured him, not wanting him to think he had to change it to suit her.

 

“Very well,” he murmured, stepping away from her.  “I’ll give you the time you need to change.  When you’re ready, join me in my chamber.”

 

Belle reached out, grasping his sleeve as he turned to leave.  “I-I…ah…would you perhaps help me with my fastenings?” she asked, her face heating again.  “It took three maids to get me into this dress, but I think if you loosen the stays I might be able to manage.”

 

He stood rooted to the spot, staring after her as she walked back into her room.  A surge of white hot lust rippled through him, making the constraining leather covering his groin seem like a medieval torture device.  Yet, how could he deny her simple request.  He’d either have to hire a lady’s maid—which didn’t seem possible because no one wanted to work for the Dark one—or he’d have to purchase her a new wardrobe.  One that didn’t have such complicated fastenings.  He gulped around the lump of nervousness that rose in his throat and trailed after her. 

 

Yes, definitely a new wardrobe, he thought irritably as he tackled the long row of buttons along the back of the robin’s egg blue gown.  Tiny little buttons that sought to escape his callused fingers.  He’d gotten maybe five unbuttoned before he was ready to rip the garment from her petite frame and toss it into the hearth.  He tugged a bit too sharply and she tumbled back into him, her body fitting easily to his.  He forced himself to bite back a groan as the sweet curve of her bottom molded itself perfectly to his groin.

 

It wasn’t her, he tried to convince himself.  It was simply the fact that he’d been too long without a woman.  It didn’t help that she glanced up at him over her shoulder, her wide blue eyes questioning.  “I’m sorry, husband, I must’ve lost my balance.”

 

Her sweet floral scent rose from her hair, the softness of her skin brushed the back of his knuckles as he worked the buttons and he groaned. The leather constricted him even more as his cock engorged further.  He was seconds away from proving just what a beast he was and that was not how he wanted their relationship to begin.  She was an innocent maid, untouched by any man and he wouldn’t give in to his baser urges and rut with her like an animal.  He had to regain control and stripping her from her clothes wasn’t conducive to repressing his lust.

 

With a quick flick of his wrist, the buttons popped open and her corset strings loosened.  He was sure if she hadn’t been holding a hand to her bodice, the heavy dress would have fallen to pool at her feet.  He pulled the edges of his dragon hide coat together, hoping if she turned she wouldn’t see the noticeable bulge in his trousers.

 

“There you are, pet,” he said, grimacing as he noticed his voice was a bit shrill even to his ears.  _Fuck!!_  She was turning him into a rambling fool.  “You should be able to finish on your own.  I’m just going to…”

 

“Yes?” she asked, turning partially to see him as he backed towards the door.

 

 _I’m going for a dip in the frozen lake so I don’t take my wife right here on the hearth rug of her new bedroom, that’s what!_ “…to…to…” His eyes dropped to the gentle swell of her breasts over the sagging lace bodice of her gown before snapping them back up to her face to meet her gaze.  “…take a bath.  I’ll see you in an hour, dearie.”

 

Belle let the gown drop to her feet, a breath of relief whooshing out of her as the door closed with a sharp click of the latch.  She took comfort in the fact that he seemed just as nervous about the night ahead of them as she was. 

 

After a quick search, she discovered her things had already been unpacked and stored away in the wardrobe, the portmanteau tucked beneath her bed.  She hung the gown up in the wardrobe next to her other dresses and retrieved a night dress before disappearing behind the screen to change.  She was grateful for the basin and pitcher of fresh warm water she found there, adding a bit of rose scented oil to the water and giving herself a quick wash.  She’d had a bath before dinner, but with all the excitement of her deal and the wedding following,, it was nice to rid herself of the thin film of perspiration that clung to her skin.

 

Belle surveyed her reflection in the mirror with a critical eye as she slowly brushed out her shiny chestnut curls.  The slow methodical strokes did nothing to relieve the tension coiled like a spring within her.  She glanced down at her modest night gown, scoop necked and long sleeved.  The preparations to her trousseau had barely begun when she’d decided to call upon the Dark One and who could have guessed that he’d want to marry her.  She was, however, disappointed not to have anything better to wear for such a memorable night.  What was she going to do?  She was chewing her lip raw with nervous anticipation.  She had no knowledge of what to expect other than what she’d been told, and it was those thoughts that had her ready to run in fear.  She wouldn’t, of course.  Her mother hadn’t raised some squeamish miss who would shirk her duty.

 

She glanced at the ornate clock on the mantel over the hearth, the glass allowing her to see the gears and cogs as it ticked away with every second, time marching on.  He was expecting her and she wouldn’t disappoint him.  She gathered her courage about her like a cloak and marched determinedly to the door, taking a deep breath as her hand paused on the knob.  It was now or never.  She just prayed he’d be gentle with her.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Baelfire’s bare feet padded across the carpet as he crept silently into his sister’s room and crawled up onto the bed.  “Morraine?”

 

She didn’t even answer, merely lifted the corner of the blankets so he could slide in next to her.  His breath was warm and smelled faintly of mint as his head came to rest on the pillow next to hers.  She cracked one eye open and hid a wide yawn behind her hand.  “What are you doing in here, Bae?”

 

“I can’t sleep.”

 

“You always say that,” she murmured sleepily.  Morraine rolled her eyes and bit her lip to hold back a grin.  As if that weren’t obvious, she thought, reaching out to rub his back in a soothing manner.  “You need to sleep.”

 

“How can you think of sleep at a time like this?” he snarked in a loud whisper.

 

“Because, brother dear, I have the sense to know that I want to be awake and alert tomorrow morning when we have breakfast with our… _parents_ ,” she said meaningfully.

 

Baelfire yawned and burrowed deeper under the duvet.  “Did you happen to notice how papa was watching her?  He _likes_ her.  I mean, really _likes_ her.”

 

She rolled over on her back and stared at the pink canopy above the bed with its pattern of roses.  “I did, but we can’t get our hopes up, Bae.  He’s merely intrigued with her at the moment.  There’s no guarantee that they’ll fall in love, much less find true love.”

 

“Maybe all they need is a little push,” he suggested as his eyes began to droop.  He had never been able to understand why he was able to relax so thoroughly when he crawled in bed with his sister when he had the same mattress on his own.  It could be that he just didn’t like to sleep alone.

 

“Oh, no!  There will be none of your pranks, Baelfire.  We don’t want to ruin what might be between them before it has a chance to grow.  At least not before we have a chance to get to know her.”

 

“That didn’t exactly sound like a _no_ , Morraine.”

 

“All I’m saying is before we decide to help papa on the road to true love, we need to make sure our new step-mother can love him for who he is instead of his power.”  She turned over onto her side to face him again, gripping his chin in her hand to make him focus.  “Deal?”

 

His eyes were already slipping closed, but he was lucid enough to know not to go to sleep before he answered.  “Deal.  But if she can’t…she’ll have to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you sooo much for reading! And I can’t begin to tell you how much your reviews and comments warm my heart (and excite my muse to no end). I’m so glad you’re all enjoying it. I just adore Morraine and Baelfire. They’re so much fun to write. And to those of you who have reviewed, excitedly awaiting the wedding night…well, let’s just say it’s NOT what you’re expecting. (o: My beta, however, was giddy with glee when she read it, so hopefully, you’ll like it too. Much love to you all, my darlings!


	5. Not What She Was Expecting

 

 

The imp curled his toes in the thick crimson carpet, once…twice…  His eyes opened to meet those of his reflection in the mirror, the deep amber filled with what could only be called panic.  What the hell was wrong with him?  He was the fucking Dark One!  He should not be afraid of his new wife.  Well, maybe afraid wasn’t quite the correct term, but it was damned close.

 

At least the bluish tinge was fading from his usually green-gold skin, he mused.  A shiver tripped up his spine as he recalled his frantic dip in the lake.  He’d be lucky if he didn’t have frostbite on certain parts of his anatomy, but at least the icy water had been effective in cooling his ardor.  He cast his reflection a baleful glare as he perused his attire.  Why was he suddenly so self-conscious about his appearance?  The black cotton trousers that ended mid-calf hugged his hips and thighs, fitted perfectly and the loose, long sleeved silk shirt flowed about his torso, the ties at his throat left undone to reveal a good portion of his chest.  It was the same reflection that greeted him every night when he prepared for bed.  Baelfire wore something similar, though in a lighter color.  So why should it bother him this evening?

 

 _Because, Spinner, you’re worried about what the little wife will think of you,_ the Dark One cackled scornfully from the back of Rumpelstiltskin’s mind.

 

It was more than that, he mused fretfully, beating the demon back.  He hated to think of what he’d be like if he didn’t have his family to ground him.  Without the children, he would have succumbed to the darkness long ago and given the beast free reign.  He worried his desire for the little princess would supersede his good sense and he’d hurt her, and he’d never forgive himself if his actions caused her harm.  He still found it rather astounding that she’d agreed to become his wife in the first place.  She was a brave little thing, he’d have to give her that.

 

He paced over to the hearth with its cheery, welcoming blaze, needing the warmth to chase away the lingering chill from his swim.  His long spinner’s fingers tapped nervously against his chin as dread coiled in his belly.  He’d been nothing but a disappointment to his first wife.  What if Belle thought the same?  What if he failed her as he’d failed Milah?  He really didn’t think he could go through that again.  He raked a hand through his hair and bit back a curse.  What had ever made him think this was a good idea?  He should have just settled for finding a maid instead of this lunacy.

 

The timid knock on the door between his chamber and the bathing room had his heart plummeting somewhere in the region of his feet.  He shook off his trepidation and padded across the room, schooling his features into a soft smile—or at least what he hoped was a smile and not a pained grimace—before yanking the door open.  She stood there, staring at her bare feet, her cheeks hotter than he’d seen them previously, and twisting her fingers until the knuckles shown white.

 

He felt the tension drain out of him as he reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her cool fingers.  It did wonders for his ego to realize she was just as nervous as he was.  “Come in, pet,” he said, his voice low and husky, all traces of the imp absent.

 

Before he could close the door, Belle was in his arms, her arms twining about his neck as her lips smashed clumsily to his.  His brows disappeared beneath the fringe of hair on his forehead, his eyes widening in disbelief.  Her body was stiff and unyielding as she waited for him to return her embrace.  When he didn’t respond, her eyes opened to stare back at him in question.

 

“Um…dearie, as nice as this is, what are you doing?” he asked as he set her away from him, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest as she settled back on her heels.

 

Belle lowered her eyes, staring at her hands, unable to meet his gaze.  “I th-thought this was what I was supposed to do…what you wanted,” she whispered in a small voice.

 

Rumpelstiltskin rubbed her upper arms through the sleeves of her modest gown before trailing his hands along her shoulders to her neck.  His thumbs brushed against the sensitive pulse points beneath her jaw as his fingers gently kneaded her nape.  “Relax, princess,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her brow.  “I may be a monster, but I don’t make it a habit of ravishing innocent virgins.”

 

She peeked up at him from beneath her long lashes, a puzzled frown drawing her brows low over her eyes.  “But, Mildred said—“

 

 _Oh, I can just imagine what your stalwart lady in waiting might have told you,_ he thought irritably.  “Are you hungry, pet?”  He took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and pulling her along behind him into his sitting room, effectively changing the subject.

 

Belle looked around, taking in the décor.  His chamber was almost an exact replica of her own, but done in rich crimson and gold and the furniture was made of dark cherry wood instead of the light teak of her own.  It suited him.  She let him lead her to his sitting area without protest.  It was well past midnight and though she’d had dinner, the stress and worry caused by the uncertain fate of her kingdom had chased away her appetite.  Her nerves made her stomach churn, though now it was for an entirely different reason.

 

“What’s wrong, little wife?  Griffon got your tongue?” he teased, his eyes following her as she wandered to the bookshelf to inspect the tomes he kept there.

 

She blushed again as she ran her fingertips lightly over the spines of his collection.  “N-No.”  She cleared her throat, trying to dispel some of the hesitancy that seemed to riddle her tone.  “I’m sorry, Rumpelstiltskin.  I’m just a bit nervous I suppose.”

 

He knew how much that must have cost her to admit.  He patted his knees as he settled onto the settee, beckoning to her.  “Come here to me, little wife,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk.  He was slowly gaining confidence in the face of her fear and his fondest desire was to put her at ease.  He wanted her to feel comfortable with him and he could think of no better way to do that than to have her become familiar with his touch.

 

Belle eyed him warily as she came to stand before him, praying she was misinterpreting his command.  An embarrassing squeak escaped her parted lips as he pulled her down onto his lap.  The fluttering sensation in her belly returned tenfold.  She felt as if her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.

 

He arched a brow at her as he stroked one hand over her hair, enjoying the way the silky strands felt against his skin, but he knew he couldn’t get carried away in his desire for her.  She was far too tense and if he took her to his bed, neither of them would enjoy it.  “You need to relax, pet,” he said, his tone gentle as he smoothed a stray curl away from her brow.  “You have nothing to fear from me.”

 

“I d-don’t fear y—“

 

“Don’t lie to me,” he warned, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.  “I will not tolerate anything but complete honesty between us.”  She nodded slowly as her teeth scored the pink flesh of her lip, a nervous habit that was becoming quite endearing in his eyes.  “Now set your mind at ease.  We will _not_ be consummating our marriage this evening.”

 

She gaped at him as he reached for one of the covered dishes on the coffee table, stunned.  “I don’t understand,” she whispered, searching his face for any signs of deception.  “You don’t want me?”

 

“Quite the contrary.  I want you _very_ much.”  He dipped a spoon into the small bowl of spiced peaches and brought it to her lips, satisfied when she didn’t hesitate to open for him.  “However, I don’t think you’re ready.  When I take you, little wife, I want you to desire me just as much as I do you.”

 

She swallowed the flavorful fruit, enjoying the hint of cinnamon and cloves that burst against her palate, a shy smile curving her lips.  “Won’t our marriage be invalid if we don’t…um…”

 

He chuckled over her hesitancy to voice her thoughts.  “Oh no, pet, our circumstances are completely different than a normal marriage.  We’re bound by magic as well as by man.  There’s nothing to break our bond, therefore we can take as much time as you need.”

 

Her eyes softened to the color of a warm summer sky as he fed her another bite of the peaches before taking a bite of his own.  “You’d do that?  Wait for me, I mean?”

 

The imp set the bowl aside and reached for the jug of wine, his arm sliding around her waist as he poured some into a goblet and placed it in her trembling hands.  “Why wouldn’t I?  Aren’t you worth my time and patience?”  He traced his index finger over her lower lip.  “A gentle hand and the consideration due to the woman who chose to become my wife?”  He leaned in and caught the last quivering drop of wine on her lips with a light brush of his own. 

 

Belle brought her fingers to her lips as he pulled away, once again reaching for one of the dishes upon the table.  Warmth spread through her and she wasn’t certain if it were more from his words, the wine or his lips.  It might’ve been a combination of the three.  “I fear my former betrothed wouldn’t have cared one way or the other as long as his needs were met.”

 

He gnashed his teeth at the thought of the bounder.  “Then let us hope your father forgot to water him.”  She giggled as he slipped a piece of roast lamb past her teeth.  He sucked in a sharp breath as the tip of her tongue flicked innocently over his fingers.  He fervently hoped she was innocent enough not to notice him hardening against her hip.  “He didn’t deserve you, pet.  He would have smothered your light until there was nothing but smoldering embers.  That would have been a tragedy.”

 

They made quick work of the roasted meat and he grabbed for the last dish.  Her eyes widened and her lips parted in pleasure as she beheld the succulent, ripe strawberries on the plate.  “Wherever did you find strawberries in the dead of winter?” she asked, moaning in delight as he held it to her lips. 

 

“My greenhouse and a wee bit of magic, pet,” he explained, his voice whisper soft as he watched her lips wrap around the berry.  He groaned, wanting nothing more at that moment than to see her sweet mouth wrapped around the blunt head of his cock.  “I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”  _The greenhouse!!_   he amended silently with a mental shake.

 

She frowned as he set the plate aside.  “Aren’t you going to have any?  They’re quite delicious.”

 

He cast her a rakish grin.  “Oh I intend to, pet,” he murmured, just before he closed the distance between them and captured her lower lip between his own, sucking gently.  His tongue swept gently over the soft pink flesh and a low rumble of pleasure sounded low in his chest.  The ripe sweetness of the fruit was the perfect complement to her own sweet flavor. 

 

The hand he had around her back slid up into her hair, cupping the back of her head to hold her in place, his claws scraping lightly against her scalp.  His other hand ghosted over her hip, pulling her closer.  With a restraint so tightly reigned in it had to be magic, he spent several moments tenderly kissing her, watching her through heavily hooded eyes for any signs of discomfort or distress.  It wasn’t until he stood with her in his arms that she stiffened, her earlier panic returning.

 

Belle pulled away from him, her eyes wide with trepidation if not the full blown fear she’d experienced when she’d come to him earlier.  “W-What are you doing?”

 

“Taking you to bed.”  Her husband chuckled softly as he laid her upon the cool sheets, following after her.  He pulled the duvet over them and once again pulled her into his arms, her back to his chest.  With a snap of his fingers, he extinguished the lamps, leaving only the glow of the fire to ease the darkness.  He stretched out one arm beneath her head, twining his fingers with hers, left to left as he pulled it up to stretch across the bed.  His right arm crept over her hips, the gentle pressure more comforting than threatening.  She sighed as his warm breath caressed the side of her neck.

 

“Are you alright, little wife?” he asked, relieved when she relaxed into his embrace. 

 

“Rumpel, you said—“

 

“I said we wouldn’t be consummating our marriage tonight, pet.  I never said I wouldn’t kiss you or touch you.” He nuzzled into the hair at her nape and pressed a kiss to her neck, smiling when he saw the goosebumps raise on her skin.  And you will most assuredly be sleeping with me.  A wife’s place is at her husband’s side, don’t you think?” Teasing lightened his tone.  “ _We_ could always go sleep in _your_ bed if you prefer.”

 

Belle giggled.  She couldn’t have stopped the sound if she’d tried.  He’d been nothing but kind and gentle with her since they’d met.  He’d protected her, shielded her and saved her from certain death…not to mention an unwanted marriage to someone she knew she could never have loved.  She wouldn’t deny him the comfort of sleeping next to her.

 

“Your bed is just fine.”  She turned her head, pressing a whisper soft kiss to his temple.  “Goodnight, husband.”

 

He waited several long moments, listening to her breathing even out and deepen as she drifted off to sleep.  “Goodnight, little Belle,” he whispered, softly kissing her nape as his own eyes closed.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

The sorcerer’s nose twitched, dragging him from the best rest he’d received in an age.  He buried his face deeper in his wife’s fragrant hair and sighed contentedly.  He cracked a lid when he wasn’t quite able to fall back into the comforting arms of slumber.  The only light permeating the room came through the arch leading into his sitting room, having thrown the curtains wide last night to tempt his precious bride with the view.  Not that she’d had a chance to appreciate it once he’d gotten her on his lap.  What a little seductress she was.  Pity she didn’t realize it.  Actually, it was better she didn’t.  If she knew the power she already held over him…well he didn’t care to dwell upon it.

 

Belle snuffled softly and rolled over in his arms, her face coming to rest in the crook of his neck.  His eyes shot wide open, all thoughts of sleep deserting him, as she threw her left leg over his hip and nestled further into his side.

 

 _Well, gooooood morning, dearie!_  the Dark One chortled gleefully, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

 

 _Mine!_ Rumpelstiltskin bellowed, prodding the beast back into his cage.  _I won’t let you hurt her._

 

The demon snarled, baring his teeth at the spinner.  _You never let me have any fun,_ he pouted. _Look at her, Spinner.  She’s all lovely and pink and soft and just ripe for the taking.  If she’s yours, take her._

 

His hands balled into fists as he fought for control over the darkness, his entire body taut with tension.  He would _not_ ruin their precarious relationship before it had time to blossom into something he longed for from the very depths of his soul…especially not even twenty four hours after he’d spoken his vows.  Instead, he relaxed and pressed a soft kiss to her brow, his arm winding about her waist to pull her closer.

 

She whimpered softly in her sleep, her dainty fingers with their short nails, twining in the open edges of his shirt beneath his collarbone.  He stroked over her hair, carding his fingers through the luxuriant locks and she pressed deeper into his embrace.  He hadn’t realized yesterday how tiny she was.  In truth she couldn’t have been more than a few inches taller than Morraine.

 

He could tell the moment she woke, her muscles seizing with shock, her wide blue eyes seeking his own as her head jerked up.  “Good morning, pet,” he whispered, his lips parted in awe as he simply watched her, waiting to see what she would do.  _She’s not shrieking in fear, so there’s that,_ he mused.

 

She smiled shyly, a rosy blush rising in her neck to settle in the apples of her cheeks.  “Good morning, to you, my husband,” she murmured, returning the greeting.

 

He traced the line of her jaw, reveling in the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.  He tilted her face up further, lowering his head to brush his lips to hers.  It was encouraging that she didn’t pull away.  She didn’t even flinch as his lips slanted over hers.  That was…until he heard a whisper of sound from the far side of the bed.

 

“Shh…he’s going to hear you!” followed by a grunt as Morraine’s elbow connected with Baelfire’s ribs.

 

“Well, they’re not naked at least,” the boy peered at his sister in the shadows.  “Are they?  I thought you said—“

 

“Would you shut up, please?!”

 

The sorcerer groaned and did a bit of whispering of his own, lowering his lips to caress the shell of his wife’s ear.  “I think my children are eager to greet you this morning.”

 

Belle bit down on her lip to quell the giggle bubbling at the back of her throat.  “I think so too,” she said, easing her leg away from Rumpelstiltskin’s hip, her blush deepening when she took stock of their intimate position.

 

He raised up on his elbow and sighed.  “Alright, imps, show yourselves!” he snapped, interrupting their whispered argument.  Two sets of sable eyes peered at their father over the edge of the mattress.  “Come along now, dearies.”

 

“G’mornin’, papa,” they chorused, each casting him a cheeky grin.  Not an ounce of remorse showed on their freshly scrubbed faces.  “G’mornin, Belle…um…can we call you Belle?” Baelfire asked as he climbed up onto the bed and sat cross-legged at his father’s feet.

 

Belle sat up against the mountain of pillows at her back and patted the space to her left, beckoning to Morraine to have her join them.  “Of course, you may, Bae,” she said, smiling warmly at the boy.  “I’d like that very much.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head as he sat up beside his wife and scrubbed a hand over his face.  “Have you had breakfast or were you waiting for us.”

 

“We were waiting for Belle, papa.”  Morraine twisted her fingers together in her lap.  “We really didn’t know what to ask the pantry for since we don’t know what she likes.  But I’ve already put the kettle on for tea.”

 

“And thought you’d do a wee bit of spying in the meantime?” he asked sternly, arching a brow in her direction.

 

“It was my idea.”  Baelfire came to his sister’s rescue.  “Well, can you blame us?  It’s not every day you come home with a new wife.  We were curious.”

 

He couldn’t find it within himself to be angry with the two of them.  His door had always been open to them should they need him in the night.  There had been times after Morraine had lost her parents that he’d had to comfort her through a nightmare or two.  He remembered several times, in fact when he’d fallen asleep sitting up against the headboard in her room with Morraine nestled against one side and Baelfire against the other, knowing he’d keep the nightmares at bay.

 

Belle squeezed her new daughter’s hand and smiled reassuringly.  “I’m not picky about what I eat, darling.  Anything you…er…did you say _ask_ the pantry?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes.  “The castle is enchanted, pet.  Simply ask the pantry for what you wish to eat and it will provide.”

 

Her brow furrowed in bewilderment.  She thought she heard him grumble something that sounded like “contrary, temperamental, curmudgeon,” but she couldn’t be certain.  “It seems there is much for me to learn about my new home.”

 

“Oh, Belle, wait until we show you the stables—“

 

“No, the library first!  It’s where we spend most of our time and –“

 

“We’ll have to show you the village, too!”

 

Rumpelstiltskin groaned as they went off on a tangent of excited chatter, breakfast all but forgotten.  “Do you think the two of you might let us get dressed?”

 

“Yes, papa,” Baelfire said with no small amount of disappointment as he crawled off the bed.

 

Belle reached out and caught her husband’s hand before he could get up.  “Would you mind terribly if Morraine stayed for a bit?  I don’t know if I’ll be able to dress without a little help…” she bit her lip, perusing him from beneath her lashes.  “…unless you’d like to lend your assistance again?”

 

He bounded out of the bed in a whirl of crimson smoke, once more swathed in the rich trappings of his station, leather pants, boots, forest green silk shirt and a black brocade vest.  He grabbed his son by the elbow and ushered him quickly towards the door.  He didn’t know if he’d have the fortitude to help his wife dress this morning, not after the haze of desire he’d been in since he’d met her.  “Come along, Bae.  Let’s see to breakfast while our ladies dress for the day.”

 

Morraine giggled. 

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle sank back against the cool marble edge of the sunken tub, her senses filled with the soothing scent of lilac and roses permeating from the bubbles that filled the tub.  Rumpelstiltskin’s bathing chamber was positively sinful, she thought with a sigh.  She shouldn’t have been surprised when Morraine had led her into the room and filled the tub, simply by asking it for hot water, yet she hadn’t been able to hide the stunned disbelief in her eyes.  Belle was convinced her life there at the Dark Castle would never be boring.

 

Morraine sat on a low divan, methodically dragging a hair brush through her long golden locks.  “Why did you really marry my papa?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern for the man who’d adopted her into his small family.

 

Belle’s eyes snapped open in surprise.  “I told you, Morraine.  It was the price he asked to save my kingdom.”

 

“I know, but why did you accept the deal?  If you’d said no, he would have found another way to help you.”  She lowered her eyes.  “He hates ogres more than any other creature in the Enchanted Forest.  I don’t believe he would have left your people to die.”

 

It touched her heart to see such obvious love and devotion in the girl’s eyes.  “Morraine, I accepted his deal because it was the best solution for everyone.  My people would be safe, I would be free from the match my father had made for me and…and for the first time I felt safe with someone.”

 

The girl looked at her new stepmother skeptically, edging closer to the edge of the tub.  “My father made you feel safe?  Usually people run in fear when they are confronted by him.”

 

Belle shrugged, unable to pinpoint what exactly it was that had drawn her to the wily sorcerer.  “I don’t really know why, but yes, I feel safe with him.  You have to understand that I was terrified of Gaston.  There was always a hint of cruelty around his eyes and mouth, but I brushed it off as being part of his knightly mien.  Yet, the more I grew to know him, the more my fear doubled.  I knew he would not be a good match for me.  I tried to tell my father, but he was insistent.”  She lathered some of the soft soap in her hands before tackling her long hair.  “Rumpel on the other hand…  Well, there was just something about him that made me feel safe.  I’d been dealing with my fear for so long, it was a relief when he asked me to marry him.  It meant I didn’t have to marry Gaston, and also that I had an opportunity to find happiness with Rum.  He quite intrigues me.”

 

“Why would he want you to marry someone you didn’t love?”

 

“I am…was…the high princess of Avonlea.  I had no choice but to marry who my father chose for me,” Belle said, rinsing the thick lather from her hair.  She had to stop and wonder what it would be like once her fear of intimacy dissipated and their relationship could move forward, but she wasn’t about to share that with her new daughter.

 

Morraine gripped the brush tightly in her hand, her knuckles white.  “Do you think…” she looked away again, her teeth worrying at her lower lip.  “Do you think you might come to love my papa, Belle?”

 

Belle moved to the other side of the large round tub and covered the girl’s hand with her own.  “I don’t know, Morraine.  I hope so…one day.  I need time to get to know him.”  She smiled at her step-daughter, trying to lighten her suddenly somber mood.  “I like him very much, though, from what I’ve seen of him so far.”

 

The girl heaved a sigh of relief, the sparkle of mischief returning to her eyes.  “His appearance doesn’t frighten you?”

 

Belle chuckled, reaching for a fluffy towel to wrap about her and another to dry her hair.  “Of course not.  Why would it?  I think your papa is very attractive.”

 

Morraine gaped at her.  This was better than she could have hoped.  Maybe…just maybe Rumpelstiltskin had chosen his true love after all.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

“Where are you going with the food, papa?” Baelfire asked, his brow furrowed as Rumpelstiltskin lifted the tray from the counter and set off for the door of the kitchen.

 

“I was thinking Belle would probably like to eat in the Great Hall,” he answered, frowning down at his son as the boy hurried around him and blocked his path.

 

“Why?  We never eat in the hall.  We always eat in here by the fire.  It’s cozy.  The hall is too formal,” Baelfire objected.  He took the tray and brought it over to the modest kitchen table.

 

“But, son, she’s a princess.  She’s used to formal dining.”

 

“I’m sure she’s used to going to balls and wearing a tiara, too, but she’s not going to be doing either living here with us.  She needs to get comfortable with how we do things here, papa, if she’s going to be part of our family.  Don’t you think?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin tapped his fingers together, staring at his son and the logic pouring from the boy’s lips.  “Good point.”

 

“Sit down, papa,” Baelfire said gently, trying to be mindful of his father’s ever changing moods.  “Why don’t we have a cup of tea while we wait for them to come down?”

 

He took the cup from his son and sipped gingerly at the steaming brew, taking comfort in the familiarity of taking tea with his child.  He couldn’t help glancing to the kitchen door every few moments, though.

 

“You like her, don’t you?” Baelfire asked, cutting into his reverie.

 

He regarded the boy for a long moment before sighing and nodding his head, staring down into the cup.  “I do. Very much.”

 

“Then why do you look as though someone stole your favorite cauldron?” he deadpanned, sipping at his own tea.

 

“It’s complicated, son.  You’re thirteen,” the sorcerer said, as if that explained everything.

 

“Just because I’m thirteen, it doesn’t mean I can’t see things staring me in the face.  You were kissing her.  You wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t like her, papa.”  He reached for a scone from the tray and took a bite, bits of pastry flying about as he continued.  “She likes you too.  Morraine said so.”

 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he scolded.  “And of course it’s true if your sister says so, is that it?”

 

The boy shrugged, grinning cheekily.  “Of course.  She knows these things…she’s a girl.  Just don’t tell her I said so.  There’ll be no living with her.”

 

The imp laughed, reaching out to ruffle his son’s hair.  “Don’t get your hopes up, dearie.  Belle may have married me, but don’t think that she’ll fall in love with me and break my curse.  Sweet little princesses don’t go around falling in love with the monster.  They wait for their prince.”

 

“And I think perhaps she’d be willing to look past the monster to see the prince beneath.  She might surprise you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, helloooooo, dearies! Surprise! I thought I would treat you all to an early chapter just b/c I’m in a rather good mood. There will still be the regular updates coming this weekend, never fear. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. I hope you all enjoyed this installment (o:


	6. The Village Part 1

 

“It’s snowing!  How can a carriage make it through the pass?” Belle asked worriedly as she peeked out the front door of the Dark Castle at the conveyance parked in the drive.

 

Baelfire snickered with amusement.  “You don’t know papa.  If he’s insistent on taking us somewhere, a little snow won’t stop him.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin came down the marble staircase, catching nothing but the tail end of his son’s remarks.  “What was that, son?”

 

“Belle’s worried about the carriage not being able to make it through the snow,” the boy explained as he pulled on his thick leather gloves.

 

The imp grinned wickedly as he went to stand before his wife, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze.  He smoothed the frown lines from her brow with a fingertip, his lips parting in awe as he watched how easily she was drawn under his spell.  Perhaps Baelfire had been right, he mused.  Maybe his little wife harbored feelings for him and didn’t even realize it.  Then again, he may just be imagining what he wanted to see.

 

“Worry not, pet.  I’ll see you to the village in one piece.”  He glanced over her shoulder to his son.  “Where is your sister?”

 

“You know Morraine, papa,” he said with a roll of his eyes.  “She’s already in the carriage shrieking for us to hurry up.”  He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head to protect it from the falling snow and bounded out of the door to join Morraine.

 

Rumpelstiltskin drew the vibrant emerald cloak lined with thick ermine from where it hung over his arm and wrapped it about Belle’s shoulders, fastening the clasp over her collarbone.  “There, little wife.  It fits you perfectly.  Did the…ah…did the boots fit?”

 

“I love my new boots, Rumpel, but can I ask you something?” she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.  When he gave her a swift nod, she screwed up her courage enough to ask the question burning in her gut.  “Where did you get them?” she asked, gesturing to her new boots and cloak.  She refused to acknowledge the sensation, torturing her, as jealousy.

 

“They belonged to a little noble several kingdoms away.  She bartered it away for a pair of trousers and boots.  She was running from a rather nasty knight intent on carrying her away whom she wanted to avoid at all costs,” he giggled gleefully.  He tucked the tail of her long chestnut braid beneath the hood and tapped her nose.  “Did you think they belonged to a former paramour, by chance?”

 

“No,” she retorted just a little too quickly to be convincing.  “I just didn’t imagine the Dark One to have a store of women’s clothing on hand.”

 

The Dark One preened at her comment, but it simply made Rumpelstiltskin sad as he looked down at her, a little furrow appearing between his eyes.  Since he’d met her, he’d tried to treat her with a gentle hand, showing her the man behind the mask.  He just wondered how long it would take for her to see it.  “You wouldn’t believe some of the things I have in the treasure rooms, pet,” he said softly, “and if you’re a good girl I might just let you explore them.  Nothing dangerous, mind you.  I keep most of the nasty little items stored away in my vault to prevent my wee ones…and curious little princesses…from harm.”

 

Belle chewed thoughtfully on her lip as he led her out into the courtyard.  She’d upset him in some way, recognizing the icy little bite to his tone.  Breakfast had been an awkward affair, much like the rest of the time she’d spent in his presence, soothed away by the children’s chatter.  She was being cautious because of his reputation, stories from the books she’d read and tales from the maids and guards who’d cared for her all her life, making her that way.  If she ever hoped to become comfortable with him and hopefully form a friendship between them, she was going to have to lay those to rest and delve into the man he really was.  Besides, from what she’d seen so far, his gentle attention to her and the obvious love he held for his children, she was afraid she’d misjudged him.  If he were the monster of legend, she doubted she would have escaped her wedding night unscathed.

 

Rumpelstiltskin handed her into the carriage and settled on the seat beside her, only then realizing the close quarters of the conveyance as her hip pressed into his, the heat of her skin nearly burning him.  He groaned inwardly as he took the heavy fleece blanket from Morraine and settled it across his wife’s lap.

 

Belle spread it out until it covered his legs as well, her cheeks blooming with color as she smiled coyly up at him.  “I don’t want you to be cold, husband,” she said by way of explanation.

 

The children shared a knowing grin, practically bouncing in their seats and his eyes narrowed on the pair.  They were apparently up to something, and he’d have to be on guard for their pranks today.  He didn’t want Belle’s first trip down the mountain to be spoiled with mischief.  Lifting his hand to magic the carriage into motion, he turned to Baelfire.  “Did you check Vlad’s faulty shoe before hitching him to the harness?”

 

“Yes, papa.  I thought we could have the blacksmith replace it while we were in the village.”

 

The carriage set off towards the gates and a ripple of excitement washed over the children.  Belle seemed fascinated with the view, if her little gasps and sighs were any indication and so he turned his focus on the children, going over his usual litany of instructions.  “Did you remember to bring your pin money?”

 

“Yes, papa,” they chorused.

 

“And why is it important to spend your money in our village instead of neighboring villages?” he asked, one imperious brow raised as he awaited their answers.

 

Morraine beat Baelfire by a hare’s breath.  “Because you are their liege lord and it is important to show that we are willing to help the economy thrive.  When we support the village, the craftsman are able to provide a better quality of service and goods.  And—“

 

“—if the goods and services are of an exceptional quality it will bring more business in from neighboring villages to help our people prosper and grow,” Baelfire finished for her, earning a glare from his sister.

 

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, pleased with the pair.  “Remember to—“

 

Morraine cut him off.  “—be respectful of others and their property, do not spend all of our money in one shop and—“

 

“--do not throw snowballs at Mrs. Lucas when she whispers snide remarks about you behind your back,” Baelfire said, his brows drawing together low over his eyes as he turned his gaze to the window.

 

Belle turned wide amused eyes towards her husband.  “ _Who_ is Mrs. Lucas?”

 

“She is the widow who runs the Wolf’s Head Inn and Tavern,” the imp replied.  “She and I have a complicated relationship.  When I first became—“

 

His voice trailed off as the children stilled, their wide gazes focused on him, stunned that he would be willing to reveal so much about himself to his new bride.  Belle merely looked interested in the conversation.  There was no avarice in her gaze, no calculating greed behind her eyes, merely curiosity to discover more about the man she’d married. 

 

He sighed, sure he would be kicking himself later for telling her.  “—the Dark One, she called upon me to help her granddaughter.  I think she resents it that she needed my assistance at all, but more so that I now know her well-guarded secret.”

 

“You haven’t always been the Dark One?” she asked in surprise.  Her books had never mentioned anything about there being more than one.  She hadn’t been expecting that.  It shed new light on the mystery surrounding him.

 

“No.  I’ve only had the title for little more than a year, but that isn’t a conversation for today, pet,” he murmured softly, his gaze dropping to her lips as they curved into a small smile.  “Today is for fun and new experiences.”

 

Belle nodded.  She was full of questions, but she would accede to his wishes and hold them for another time.  She turned her gaze back to the window, fascinated by the falling snow, the flakes sticking to the windows only to melt from the heat inside the carriage.  It never snowed in Avonlea and she could only find herself intrigued by the pure white flakes.

 

Baelfire had to clear his throat three times before he could gain his father’s attention, giving him a pointed look.  The sorcerer frowned, wondering if his child thought he could somehow read his mind.  He shook his head, making it clear he had no idea what all the throat-clearing was supposed to mean. 

 

The boy rolled his eyes before shooting a meaningful look over at his new stepmother, making sure she was distracted before mouthing, “Hold her hand.”

 

Morraine, watching the exchange between father and son, nodded vigorously.

 

Rumpelstiltskin frowned dubiously, wondering what had gotten into them before his gaze slid over to Belle, noting her obvious interest in the passing scenery.  He looked back at his children and shook his head.  Morraine’s shoulders slumped as she dropped her head into her hand, realizing her father was either shy or deliberately showing signs of stupidity.

 

Baelfire, wishing to continue the pantomime, reached over and took Morraine’s hand in his, linking their fingers.  He turned his head towards her, a shy smile on his lips.  Quickly catching on, Morraine smiled shyly up at him from beneath her lashes and bit her lip, a perfect imitation of her stepmother’s habit, a blush rising to stain her cheeks.  Rumpelstiltskin stared at them in horror, wondering how his daughter could seemingly blush at will.  After a moment, they turned their sable eyes to him, their meaning clear.  Morraine mouthed, “Do it!”

 

Rumpelstiltskin regarded them suspiciously through narrowed eyes, wondering when his children had become so fluent in the art of matchmaking.  He shrugged, seeing no harm in holding his wife’s hand.  She had yet to refuse his advances and this seemed innocent enough.  Their hands were already resting a mere two inches apart atop the blanket covering their laps.  It would be a simple thing to just reach out and clasp her hand in his.  When did it grow so bloody warm in the carriage?  He cast a furtive glance over at them and they nodded encouragingly.

 

Belle stiffened slightly as she felt her husband’s sharp claws brush lightly against her palm.  She turned to look up at him, color rising in her cheeks as she met his gaze.  Her stomach fluttered with that familiar sensation that only he seemed to evoke in her whenever they touched.  His warm amber eyes were soft, open, and she could see a vulnerability that she wouldn’t have expected to find there.  She squeezed his fingers as they twined with hers, conveying her acceptance of his touch without her errant tongue getting in the way and making her say the wrong thing.

 

He felt like a bloody idiot, and thought for a moment she’d call him on it, but her eyes softened and the tension slowly eased from her posture as she squeezed his fingers.  It was easier with her when they were alone in the dimly lit recesses of their bedchamber rather than the bright light of day, but he couldn’t let the opportunity pass him by.  He searched his mind, desperate for something to say, some reason to explain away his actions, but all he could do was lose himself in the beauty of her gaze.  “We’ll be there soon, pet,” he said softly, the usually shrill tone of his voice giving way to something softer.  She shivered and it gave him inspiration.  “We’ll have to make sure to find you some warmer clothing.”

 

“You don’t have to do that, Rumpel,” she protested.  “I brought several things with me.  You shouldn’t have to spend money on me after all you’ve done already.”

 

“Rubbish,” he snorted, brushing his thumb back and forth over her hand as he noticed the redness and irritation of her soft skin. “You didn’t even bring a pair of gloves.  You are ill-equipped for the harsh climate up on the mountain and I will not have you falling sick because you’re not dressed properly.”  He brought their joined hands to his mouth, dropping a light kiss to her knuckles.  “You are mine, pet, and I _will_ provide for you.  I assure you it is no hardship.”

 

“Thank you, my husband,” she whispered, pausing just a moment in indecision before leaning up to kiss his cheek.

 

Morraine giggled, unable to tamp down the happiness bubbling in her chest.  Rumpelstiltskin happened to glance over to find both of his children grinning like two loons.  Baelfire drew Belle’s attention to the gates of the village before she could begin to suspect anything was amiss.  “Belle, you’re going to love it here.  There’s a sweet shop, a dress shop, a milliner’s…thought the proprietor is a bit of a crackpot…”

 

“Baelfire!”

 

“…what?  He is, papa, you’ve said so yourself!” the boy piped innocently. “But I’d have to say the best place in the village is the bookshop.”

 

Belle brightened considerably as she turned to her husband.  “You’re raising two little scholars, aren’t you,” she said approvingly.  “It’s very admirable.  My papa never approved of the amount of time I spent with my books, though he didn’t curtail my activities as long as I kept away from his affairs.”

 

The imp gnashed his teeth, thinking about the old fool.  He didn’t deserve a treasure such as his daughter.  “I assure you, pet, I will never prohibit you from expanding your mind.  Knowledge is power and I find it a pity to drift through life without a decent education.”

 

“We’ll show you our library when we return home, Belle.  Papa scoured the realms to build it for us.  It’s one of our favorite places in the entire castle,” Morraine said exuberantly, casting her father an adoring look.

 

The carriage rolled to a stop next to the blacksmith’s shop and Rumpelstiltskin bounded from the carriage, Baelfire right behind him.  The boy hurried to unharness Vlad and lead him over to speak with the craftsman’s assistant.  The sorcerer reached in, and helped his daughter alight before turning to Belle.  His clumsy little bride stumbled on the step and tumbled into him.

 

“Careful, dearie,” he mumbled as she braced her hands against his chest, his arms going about her waist to steady her.  He was instantly taken with the way several snowflakes caught on her lashes and it was an effort to restrain himself from closing the scant distance between them to kiss them away.  He set her back on her feet and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, calling for Baelfire.  “Where will you be when you’re done here?”

 

“I was thinking of going to meet up with Peter and Red at the Inn.  We haven’t been down the mountain in two weeks and I’d like to catch up with them.”

 

His father nodded.  “Very well.  I’m going to take the girls to see Mrs. Davenport and then I need to speak with the mayor.  I’ll see you in a bit and,” he cast his son a warning look, “behave yourself, lad.”

 

Belle’s head swiveled back and forth in her excitement as she took in the sights of the modest little village.  The buildings here looked far sturdier than those in Avonlea and she could only surmise the reason they were was due to the harsher climate.  These were made of stone or brick where as those in the bustling sea port town were made of plank.  The marketplace set up in the town square was busier than she’d have expected, the people not seeming to mind the lightly falling snow.  Her husband led her to a door several buildings down from the blacksmith’s shop and she could see several dresses in the front window.

 

Morraine entered before them and she could hear the girl greeting the proprietress.  “Good morning, Mrs. Davenport.  How are you?”

 

“I am well, Miss Morraine, and how are you today?” the cheerful, pink cheeked woman greeted, her hands clasped before her ample middle.  Her face fell a bit when the sorcerer entered, a lovely young girl on his arm.  “Oh dear!”

 

“We’re here to procure a new wardrobe for my stepmother,” Morraine said happily, ignoring the woman’s change in demeanor.  She was used to it.

 

The woman dropped a rather stiff curtsy to her liege lord and pasted an uncomfortable smile on her face.  “Milord,” she greeted stiffly.  “How may I assist you?”

 

“Relax, dearie,” he snarked, one eyebrow raised in irritation.  “My lady _wife_ is in need of warmer clothes.  I want at least two dresses ready before we leave town today and the rest can be delivered to the castle.  She’s also to have stockings, undergarments, ribbons, accessories…whatever she deems necessary.”  He made certain to put extra emphasis on the word wife, knowing the entire village would know of his marriage by the end of the day.

 

The woman seemed to forget about her discomfort at the prospect of such a large sale.  “Of course, milord.  I have several for your lady to choose from that should be about her size.  The alterations shouldn’t take any time atall.”

 

“And my daughter’s order we placed last time? Is it ready?”

 

“It is.  Completed it just this morning,” she assured him, beckoning Belle into the back of the shop.  Morraine stayed up front, her attention on a new selection of ribbons at the front counter.

 

Belle’s eyes widened at the array of premade dresses, some more suited to the lower class of peasants that lived in the area, but there were some of the same quality she was used to.  The woman chose five for her to choose from.  She was at a loss as to what to choose, always having had her clothing chosen for her.

 

She was grateful her husband had decided to remain with her instead of going off to conduct his business.  “Rumpel, I don’t know…” she trailed off, uncertain.  “Would you help me choose?”

 

His brows shot up, surprised that she’d want him to help her make her selections.  If it was one thing he knew well, it was clothes.  He eyed the choices with a practiced eye.  “I think you’d do well with something that doesn’t require any assistance to get into, for one,” he murmured, discarding a lemon yellow frock that laced at the back.  “Perhaps in a color that will complement your lovely eyes?”

 

She blushed at the compliment as he held up a long velvet gown in a deep midnight blue with gold trim.  “Oh I like this one.”

 

He nodded to the woman to set that one aside, but shook his head at the next.  “Not the yellow, pet.  It makes you look a bit pale,” he said, discarding another.

 

“I like yellow.”

 

“Perhaps a darker yellow will sit you better?” the proprietress offered.

 

While they argued, Belle took the only other dress, which had caught her eye, and disappeared into a small fitting room.  It was a lovely shade of rose pink with long sleeves and white eyelet lace along the bodice and hem.  It was simple, but it fit her perfectly and was quite easy for her to dress herself without any assistance.  She stepped out of the fitting room, finding her husband going through bolts of different fabrics as Mrs. Davenport made notes on a small pad of paper.

 

“What do you think of this one, Rum?” she asked, twirling about to let him see it from all angles. 

 

Rumpelstiltskin felt his mouth go dry as he gazed at his little wife.  The dress hugged her curves perfectly, making his hands itch to touch.  His eyes darkened as he took in the way her corset pushed her breasts up, filling out the bodice to where they nearly spilled over the lace.  Gods, she was lovely.  Although, she would definitely not be allowed out of the castle wearing that particular frock.  That one would be for his eyes only.

 

“I have an insert for the bodice of that gown if you think it’s too low, m’lady,” Mrs. Davenport began.  “It’s really quite—“

 

“No insert,” the sorcerer growled. 

 

Belle’s eyes widened with alarm as he took her hand and hauled her back into the fitting room.  “Rumpel!” she cried out in alarm, giggling as she stumbled along behind him.  “What are you doing?”

 

“Checking for pins, pet.  Don’t want any lingering needles to prick your lovely skin,” he said loud enough for the proprietress to overhear and think nothing was amiss.  He pulled the curtain closed behind them and backed her into the wall, his lips covering hers before she could utter a protest.  He sipped lightly at her lips, not wanting to frighten her with his ardor, but it was a test of his control not to unleash his desire upon her.

 

Belle gasped softly as the fluttering returned tenfold to her belly and her hands slid along the open collar of his shirt, her thumbs lightly caressing the bit of skin revealed there to her.  Was she supposed to enjoy kissing him so much?  Her ladies had never mentioned that part. 

 

She whimpered softly when he pulled away to rest his brow to hers, already missing the contact.  “Pins, huh?” she asked breathily, her eyes searching his as she fought to catch her breath.  “I think you just wanted a reason to kiss me.”

 

“How astute of you, little wife.  Do you mind terribly?” he challenged.

 

Her fingers inched up to toy with the ends of his curly hair, marveling at the softness.  “Not at all.  Actually I quite liked it,” she admitted, tugging him forward again to the surprise of them both.

 

He groaned as her lips ghosted over his, tentatively exploring the contours of his lips.  He was definitely going to have to devote more time to showing her how to properly kiss him.  The pleasure of exploring her mouth thoroughly was something he was looking forward to with great relish.  His fingers traced along the seam beneath her breasts and she stiffened.  _Damn!_

“Wh-What are you doing?” she cried softly, pulling her lips away from his.

 

“Checking for pins,” he moaned, swooping back in to kiss her again.

 

“Is everything all right in there?” Mrs. Davenport called from the other side of the curtain.

 

Belle tore her mouth away from his, a low moan escaping her throat as his lips trailed along her jaw to the shell of her ear.  “J-Just fine,” she called, not recognizing the husky timbre of her voice.  “We’ll be out in a minute.”

 

His fingers plucked at the tiny buttons at the front of her bodice as he pulled on her right sleeve, baring her shoulder.  “Tricky pins, pet.  Must make sure, y’know,” he whispered, his teeth scoring the sensitive flesh beneath her ear.

 

“There are…oh gods…there are no pins in this dress,” she laughed breathlessly, her nails digging into his shoulders.

 

He drew away from her, a wicked smile on his thin lips as he held up a shiny brass pin.  Again he claimed her mouth, sucking gently on her lower lip as he eased the dress down her arms and over her hips to puddle at her feet.  She raised her arms to cover her bosom, blushing furiously.  He chuckled.

 

Belle giggled.  “You conjured that pin…admit it!”

 

“Did not!”

 

“Mrs. Davenport, have you seen my parents?  I want papa’s opinion on—“

 

“He’s in there, dear…with your stepmother,” the woman said in a loud carrying whisper.

 

“Papa!  What are you doing in there?”

 

“Searching for pins!” he trilled, whipping the curtain aside while Belle changed back into the gown she’d arrived in.  He thrust the rose pink gown at the proprietress with one hand and held up the pin with the other.  “We’ll definitely be taking this one with us…minus the pins, please.”

 

Mrs. Davenport shook out the dress with a sniff, knowing full well there hadn’t been any pins left in its seams.  Rumpelstiltskin strolled forward, a smug smirk on his lips as he faced his daughter.

 

“Sure you were, papa,” Morraine deadpanned.  “That doesn’t explain, however, why you happen to be wearing Belle’s lipstick.”

 

He swiped a hand over his mouth and glared at the light pink substance on his fingers.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Morraine giggled.  “If you say so,” she fairly sang with glee.  She couldn’t be more pleased that things were going well between her father and his new bride.  Further evidence presented itself when Belle finally emerged from the fitting room with swollen lips and a rosy blush.  She couldn’t wait to share this development with her brother.

 

Rumpelstiltskin helped Belle choose different fabrics and colors, mixing and matching what would look best with her fair skin and rich chestnut hair, deciding on several different styles before moving on to other items.  When they were done, a dozen dresses had been ordered, along with shoes to match, stockings, ribbons, under things and his favorite…six very becoming night dresses.  The one she had brought from home could be burned.  He’d make certain of it, he mused with a wolfish grin.

 

He exited the dress shop, Belle on his arm and Morraine trailed behind them with a bag filled with her order and a few other necessities she’d purchased with her pin money.  Their next stop was the small building set aside for the mayor where he attended to business in Rumpelstiltskin’s absence.  If he handled things properly, there would be no need for the sorcerer to come to town at all.

 

“M-M’lord, welcome.  I hadn’t heard you were in t-town or I’d have come to gr—“

 

Rumpelstiltskin held up a hand to cut off the man’s babbling.  “Have you collected the quarterly taxes?” he asked, pulling out a chair for Belle before the man’s desk.  Morraine chose a bench against the wall out of the way, used to accompanying him on this particular errand.

 

“Yes, milord,” Mr. Swiftly replied.  “All save for young widow Myers.  She’s been unable to come up with what is due and I’ve already begun the eviction process.  She may have to leave the village altogether as there isn’t anyone she knows who would take her _and_ five children under their roof.”

 

Belle gasped in horror at the man’s casual tone.  “Rumpelstiltskin.”  She turned her wide blue eyes on him, an inner fire sparking in their depths.  “You wouldn’t really throw that woman out on the streets in the dead of winter, would you?”

 

He placed a hand on her shoulder.  “Calm yourself, little wife.  This is business, nothing personal.”

 

She rose to her feet, all signs of her previous shyness deserting her as she faced her husband.  “You can’t.  There has to be something we can do for her.”

 

“And what would you suggest?  That we take her in and give her room and board at the Dark Castle?” he asked, twittering a giggle.

 

Belle narrowed her eyes on him as she arched a brow, daring him to try her.  “Do you have a map of the buildings in this village?” she asked the little man behind the desk.  Mr. Swiftly glanced at the sorcerer who nodded.  He went to a large armoire and withdrew a rolled parchment from within, carrying it to the desk and unrolling it.

 

Belle studied it, taking note of each family’s name written beneath the homes, the buildings used for businesses and several more she couldn’t quite identify.  Her gaze finally came to a large building labeled ‘unoccupied’.  “What is this place?”

 

Mr. Swiftly looked down to where she pointed and snorted.  “That, milady, was our orphanage.  It closed shortly after the Dark One moved into the castle.  He found homes for all the children and the building has stood empty since then.”

 

 _Always a father first,_ she thought, some of the heat leaving her gaze as she smiled up at him.  “Might I ask what you do with the taxes collected quarterly?”  If her suspicions were correct about her husband, she’d be able to convince him to help this woman and her children as well as anyone else in need.  He spun straw into gold, what did he need of what was collected?

 

Morraine’s gaze swung between her parents, realizing things were about to get interesting.  This was the first bit of backbone she’d seen from her stepmother and she just hoped her father didn’t take it the wrong way.  Bloody hell, and Bae was missing it!

 

“Why, pet?” the imp asked curiously.

 

“I think I might have an idea.”

 

“Do tell,” he commanded perching a hip on the desk as he gave her his full attention.

 

“First I need to know what you do with the money,” she insisted.

 

Her husband sighed.  “Very well, dearie.  I take the majority and deposit it into the treasury for necessary repairs to the town, maintenance for the roads and various other needs.  The rest goes into a fund should anyone need to take out a loan, which is not often, though, because the interest rate is not acceptable to them.”

 

“The building used for the orphanage is empty.  Might I suggest we turn it into a home for the needy?  Use the money set aside for your loans and sink it into this building.  It can be renovated into small one room apartments.  This young widow can be its caretaker and it will serve the community by keeping people from having to sleep in the streets.  She can serve a hot meal, offer warm shelter and it will be a charity to those less fortunate than ourselves, Rumpel.”  She rested her small hand on his arm, her eyes imploring as she looked up at him.  “Sometimes all people need is the right incentive to turn their lives around.  They just want to know someone cares.”

 

The mage cast a dark scowl at the mayor as the little weasel guffawed with raucous laughter.  “And just what the hell is so bloody funny?  Do _not_ laugh at my wife.”  He picked up the ruler lying on the desk and popped him on the nose.  The man paled and instantly snapped his lips shut as he rubbed the stinging appendage. 

 

He had to admit his little dearie’s idea was beyond brilliant.  Perhaps if she’d lived in his village, there would have been fewer nights he and Baelfire would have gone hungry.  He took her hand, the leather of her new gloves creaking softly.  “I think that’s a brilliant solution, pet.”

 

“Really?” she asked.  She’d thought surely he’d have scolded her for butting into his business.  Gods knew her father had never failed to call her on it.  “You think it’s a good idea?”

 

“I do,” he assured her.  He turned back to the mayor.  “Hire the necessary laborers to start the renovations and we will visit the widow Myers to see if she would be amenable to the position of caretaker.  She will remain in her home until such time as the new position is available.”

 

The mayor gaped at the Dark One, astounded by his generosity.  “Y-Yes, milord…as you wish.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin nodded to the man and pulled his little wife behind him as he left the building, Morraine trailing along in a daze of _what the hell just happened?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have to say…this is my favorite chapter so far in the story. I think, considering what’s going on in the show, we all need a little Rumbelle fluff. Their little courtship is so much fun to write. And the children are just such a joy to me…the little matchmakers. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Please don’t hesitate to leave a comment or a review to let me know what you thought about it (o:


	7. The Village Part 2

Belle clasped her basket tightly in her hands as Rumpelstiltskin knocked on the door of the soon to be vacant cottage housing the widow Myers and her five children.  She’d insisted upon stopping at the butcher, the fruit and vegetable vendor’s stall and the bakery before allowing him to lead her to the widow’s home.  If they couldn’t afford their taxes, it was almost certain they were doing without basic necessities.  She smiled up at her husband, who seemed to be vibrating with tension.  He’d explained to her that people didn’t react kindly to what he was.  She thought it was rubbish.  The more time she spent in her husband’s presence, the more she could see the kind and gentle man beneath his rough exterior and green-gold skin.

 

The door opened a crack and Belle was forced to look down, a bright green eye staring at them through the scant opening.  The door immediately slammed shut with a loud bang.  Rumpelstiltskin gnashed his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment, praying for patience, before knocking sharply on the wooden door once more.  There was a bit of shrieking and crying, though they couldn’t quite make out what the child was saying.  It couldn’t have been very flattering to their visitors, judging from the look of wide-eyed horror displayed on the woman’s face as she yanked the door open.

 

“D-Dark One,” she mumbled, the color draining from her face.  “Milord, forgive me.  I’m so sorry about the taxes.  I-I promise—“

 

He held up a hand to forestall any further explanations.  “Relax, dearie. I’m not here to toss you out into the snow,” he drawled irritably.

 

“You’re not?” she asked, casting him a dubious look.

 

“No.”  He gestured to Belle, drawing her gaze to the petite brunette with shining azure eyes.  “My wife would like to speak with you about a business venture.  That is, unless you’d like her to freeze to death on your front stoop?”

 

The woman pulled the door wide, blushing to the roots of her ebony hair.  “Forgive me…please, come in.”  She led them into her small kitchen where Belle was able to set her burden down on the rough-hewn kitchen table.  “Might I offer you something to drink?”

 

“No, thank you, that won’t be necessary,” she said, smiling at the woman.  “We won’t take up much of your time.”  She glanced around at the little cottage with its sparse parlor and kitchen and a curtain that must lead into a sleeping area.  It wasn’t adequate for the little family and she couldn’t help but raise a brow in her husband’s direction.  He had the nerve to look slightly abashed.  The woman eyed the basket suspiciously and Belle was quick to reassure her.  “A gift for your family.”

 

The widow gestured to the mismatched chairs around the table, taking the one farthest from her landlord.  “I-I didn’t know the Dark One was married,” she said quietly to Belle as the imp’s wife sat beside her.

 

“Just yesterday,” Belle answered, her lips curving into a bright smile.  Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes and went to the window to watch the goings on in the marketplace not far from the cottage, affording them a small measure of privacy.

 

“Willingly?” the woman asked, her eyes widening.

 

“I beg your pardon?” Belle asked, clearly affronted.

 

“I’m so sorry, milady.  I meant no offense.”

 

“No matter, Mrs. Myers, but I’m not here to discuss my marriage,” Belle said firmly, making it clear that it was no one’s business why she married Rumpelstiltskin and she wouldn’t be discussing it further.  “My husband has told me of some of your difficulties and we wish to help you.”

 

“Don’t tarry, pet.  We need to meet the children soon,” he reminded her.  Morraine had deposited her packages in the carriage and then set off to join her brother and their friends, brimming with news she was dying to share with them.

 

“Help me?  Why would you want to do that?”

 

Belle sighed, realizing the widow hadn’t seen much charity in her life since the death of her husband.  “My husband cares about this town, Mrs. Myers, and I care about his interests.  He cannot allow you to live here if you cannot afford your taxes, but we’ve devised a solution.”

 

The sorcerer snorted.  “Oh, no, pet, this was all you.”

 

Belle blushed prettily at his words, unused to praise of any kind.  “Regardless,” she continued.  “Renovations are to be made to the old orphanage and the building will be made into a home for the needy, the homeless and the destitute.  We need someone to be its caretaker.”

 

The woman’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief.  “You want…me…”

 

“To be its caretaker, yes.  You will receive free room and board, for you and your children, as long as you maintain the establishment.  Funds will be provided by the mayor for upkeep.  You will be required to see to the needs of those who seek shelter, provide a hot meal, and keep the place clean and such.  If after a three month trial period things work out to Rumpelstiltskin’s satisfaction, you will be afforded a small wage.  Would you be interested?”

 

Tears formed in the woman’s eyes as she reached out to clasp Belle’s hand.  “T-Thank you, milady!  I don’t know what to say…”

 

“Say yes, dearie!” the mage snarked, moving back to the table to take Belle’s hand as she rose to her feet.  “You can report to Mr. Swiftly in the morning and he can give you the details.”

 

Belle accepted the widow’s embrace, smiling warmly at the woman as she followed her husband from the dwelling.  She was certain, with her help, the townsfolk of this village would see their liege in a new light…one not so cloaked in darkness and distrust.  If she could see his goodness, why couldn’t others?

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Rumpelstiltskin rotated his neck, the bones creaking as he stifled a yawn.  They’d been in the village most of the day.  He’d wanted to make certain Belle was able to explore at her leisure, but he was tired and ready to go home.  The children had joined them in the bookshop and it was an effort in futility to try to get them to leave.  Belle had a bad habit of selecting a book from the shelf and instead of just reading the summary page, she would get lost in the tome and read three chapters before she decided to purchase it.  Now, three hours and seventeen new books between them, he was ready to depart.

 

“Papa, we can’t leave until we visit the sweet shop!” Baelfire cried as his father began leading them towards the carriage.  He dug in his heels and pointed over his shoulder.  “Pleassssssse?  A trip to the village isn’t done until we visit and get a sweet to eat on the way home.”

 

Belle turned to find two pairs of sable eyes staring back at them, large and liquid and reminiscent of a puppy she’d had as a child.  She turned to find her husband’s face screwed up into one of pained indecision as he glanced between them and the carriage.  “Bae,” he whined.  “It’s already going to be nearly dark before we’re even halfway up the mountain.”

 

“Pleassssse,” the children chorused.

 

“Fine!” he caved, unable to take their hang dog expressions a moment longer.  He arched a brow as Belle giggled and linked her arm with his.  “I suppose you think I indulge them too often, don’t you?”

 

“Not at all, Rum.  I think they’re wonderful,” she admitted honestly.  “They wouldn’t be the fine young adults they are if you spoiled them badly.”

 

He led her to the sweet shop and held the door for her.  “They’re everything to me, pet.  Without them…”  He twined his fingers with hers as they stepped to the counter, but he was sure they’d resume their discussion at a later date, judging from the pensive light in her eyes.  “What would you like?  Chocolates from Andrazia? Honey roasted nuts from Stratfordshire? Lemon tarts from Longborne?”  He removed his gloves, tucking them into his belt before lifting one long finger to trace her lower lip.  “There are some rather tasty pastries here too, made right here in the village.  What do you fancy, little wife?” he asked softly.

 

She drew in a sharp breath, looking over her shoulder to see the proprietor filling the children’s orders.  She leaned closer.  “I don’t rightly know.  All of my chocolates came prewrapped in a box.  What is it _you_ fancy?” she whispered as his hand moved to brush a long curl behind her ear, his touch leaving a pleasant tingle upon her skin.

 

His lips drew away from his teeth in a snarl as he was once again reminded of her former life.  “You were entirely too sheltered, dearie.  I find it amazing that you didn’t wither away in your father’s palace.”

 

She turned her sad gaze to the array of treats in the display case.  “He meant well.  At least that’s what I tell myself.”

 

“And you traded one prison for another,” he murmured.  “Belle—“

 

She blinked, stunned to hear her name flow so sweetly from his tongue.  She raised her hand, cupping his cheek.  “I have had more freedom in one day with you than I’ve had my entire life.”  He lowered his brow to rest against hers.  “You make me feel free, Rum.”

 

The short red-cheeked man behind the counter cleared his throat, averting his gaze so as not to draw the Dark One’s ire.  “How may I help you, milord? Milady?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin grinned down at his wife as her eyes took in the confections clearly displayed behind the glass.  “How am I supposed to choose?  They all look so wonderful,” she gushed.  “Rum, what is _your_ favorite?”

 

He tossed a pouch of gold on the counter, the gleaming coins shining in the lamp light as a few spilled out onto the glass.  “Give us half a dozen of everything in the shop, a baker’s dozen of the caramel cashew clusters, and a bag of the honey roasted mixed nuts.  I want everything but the nuts boxed not bagged.”

 

Baelfire whooped gleefully while the baker stared in wide-eyed shock over the huge order.  It took the mage tapping on the glass display case to get the man in motion. 

 

Belle giggled softly, nestling into his side as his arms slid around her waist to pull her closer.  “What are we going to do with so many sweets?!”

 

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find some use for them,” he grinned wickedly.  “Especially the peach tarts.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

The ride home in the twilight hour was filled with chatter from the children and a bone deep weariness in Belle.  She listened with only half an ear as she rested her head against her husband’s shoulder, her gloved hand twined with his.  Her comfort with him was growing, especially after he’d afforded her his full attention in his business affairs.  He apparently respected her intelligence where her father never had.  He listened to her and it wasn’t merely condescending indulgence the likes of which Gaston had treated her to.  Yet they called Rumpelstiltskin a monster.  If he were a monster, she’d yet to see any evidence to prove their beliefs.

 

“Papa, I invited Red and Peter to the castle this weekend for a sleep over.  Is that alright?” Morraine asked, worried that he might be upset with her because she hadn’t sought his permission first.

 

“Morraine, you know your friends are welcome any time,” he said with a small smile.  He didn’t mention the fact that they’d been invited many times and had still failed to accept her invitations.

 

“Yes, but, papa, this time Granny might consider it because we have a mama now,” Baelfire interjected happily.

 

Belle felt her heart lurch with happiness that the children already saw her that way.  She’d been a bit leery when her husband had mentioned children, worried that her lack of experience would make it difficult to care for them.  She couldn’t have been more wrong.  They were so warm and welcoming to her, pulling her into their lives with open arms.  She was already growing quite attached to them.

 

They bounded out of the carriage as it pulled up before the Dark Castle, making a beeline towards the pantry where their father had sent his purchased treats on ahead of them.  “Bae!  Morraine!  Stay out of those sweets until after dinner!”  Groans met her ears when she entered the foyer ahead of her husband.  “You’ve already had enough in the carriage.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin took her cloak and put it away with his own in the small closet and led her to sit before the fire, settling her at his side on the settee.  He chuckled as she rested her head on his chest and wrapped an arm loosely about his waist.  “Not so shy today, pet?  I think the outing did us good.”

 

Her voice was soft, the sound a sweet caress as she meet his gaze.  “I just need to get to know you better, husband.  Can I ask you something?”

 

“Oooh, sounds serious,” he quipped, his eyes widening with mock horror as his impish giggle trilled though the Great Hall.

 

The soft flesh of her lower lip disappeared between her teeth as she regarded him steadily, wondering why he was suddenly hiding behind the persona of the Dark One.  “I was just wondering what happened to Bae and Morraine’s mother.  I didn’t mean to pry.”

 

He released her from his gentle hold, rising to his feet to pace the hearth rug, the fingers of his right hand rubbing rhythmically against his thumb.  The Dark One growled menacingly from its corner as the darkness crept in to chase away his happiness.  “And maybe you’re just afraid I did away with her in some gruesome way, eh?  Afraid, princess?”  He leaned over, crowding her personal space, his hot breath ghosting over her face.  “Frightened that I’ll do the same to you?”

 

“No!”

 

“You should be, pet.  I’m not a nice man and you would do well to remember that.  I’m the monster that invades your dreams in the dead of night, the beast who took you from everything you love.  Never forget that,” he threatened in a low hiss.

 

Bae stood frozen in the doorway leading from the kitchen corridor, his face pale and bloodless.  “Papa!”

 

Rumpelstiltskin jerked away from his wife, staring blackly at his son before the darkness receded enough to allow him to recover his wits.  “Bae…” His face crumpled as he saw the fear on his boy’s face and he couldn’t bear to witness it another moment.  He disappeared in a wisp of violet smoke, running as he always did.  The progress he’d made with his little bride was surely destroyed with one single bout of temper and he feared he wouldn’t be able to repair the damage.

 

Baelfire made his way to the settee and sat down carefully next to his stepmother.  “Are you alright?  Did he hurt you?” he asked, his eyes searching for any sign of injury.

 

“I-I’m fine, Bae.  I don’t think your father would hurt me, really.”

 

He didn’t look convinced, noticing the rosy blush that usually tinged her alabaster cheeks was absent.  “Things were going so well between you.  What happened to bring out the beast?”

 

Belle sighed and slumped wearily against the back of the settee.  “I simply asked about yours and Morraine’s mother…what had happened that she’s no longer here with you all.  I promise I didn’t mean to upset him.”

 

He shook his head sadly.  “It’s not your fault.  Talking about mama always sets him off.  Come,” he said, rising and offering her a hand. “Have dinner with us in the kitchen and I’ll tell you a story.”

 

Morraine set a plate before them both before she carried her own to the table, knowing by the stiff set of her brother’s shoulders and the absence of their father that something had happened.  “What has papa done now?” she asked in a resigned tone.

 

“Belle asked about my mama,” he said, digging into the hearty shepherd’s pie she’d dished up for them.

 

“I don’t too much care for the woman either.  She was a faithless wretch and you’re both better off without her,” Morraine seethed, stabbing viciously at a carrot with her fork and popping it into her mouth.

 

“Morraine!  Don’t talk of your mother that way.  No matter what she—“

 

The girl frowned at her.  “Wait, you think…” she laughed bitterly.  “Oh no, Belle.  Bae and I don’t share the same parents.  Rumpelstiltskin took me in after my parents succumbed to the sickness that decimated our village.  Without his magic to protect us, we would have fallen victim to it as well.”

 

“Wanna hear that story? Or the one about mama and papa?” Bae asked around a mouthful of the savory pie.

 

Belle tore into a bit of the crusty bread on her plate, intrigued.  “May I hear both?”

 

“You might as well, Bae.  If papa’s in one of his moods, he’ll be locked away in his tower for hours.  Though I think you should start with the story of your parents first.”

 

The boy shoveled the last few mouthfuls of his dinner into his mouth and then sat back with a groan, patting his stomach.  He glared at his sister as she muttered _pig_ under her breath.

 

“And start at the beginning this time,” she warned, knowing how he hated to be interrupted when he was telling a story.  He was as bad as their father in that respect.

 

Baelfire leveled his stepmother with a stony gaze and began.  “He was conscripted to fight in the first ogre war.  He was so proud, Belle.  He wanted so badly to prove himself a brave man.  He’d lived his life under the stigma of cowardice because of his own papa’s reputation.  This was his chance.  He left, not knowing mama was already pregnant with me.”

 

Morraine continued to eat, having heard the story more than once from both Rumpelstiltskin and Baelfire respectively.

 

“Oh how awful,” Belle murmured, pushing her plate away, her attention riveted on the boy.

 

Baelfire nodded.  “I don’t know how she ended up in the camp, but a seer told papa that he wouldn’t survive to see his son…me.”  He paused, casting a wary glance in his sister’s direction.

 

“Go on, she needs to know, Bae,” Morraine encouraged him.

 

“He…um…he smashed his own leg with a hammer to render himself lame…to keep from having to fight…so he’d get sent home,” he mumbled, lowering his dark eyes to the table.  He didn’t want to see the disgust and condemnation in Belle’s eyes.

 

“No,” she gasped.  “How did he make it home with such a wound?”

 

His surprise nearly robbed him of speech.  “You don’t think he was a coward to do that to himself?”

 

Belle snorted derisively.  “The ogres are nigh unstoppable.  Sending men out to battle against them is like leading lambs to slaughter.  Your father sounds as though he simply wanted to go home to you…to his family.  He knew battling such creatures was hopeless and didn’t want you to grow up without him there to guide you.  Are you sorry he returned to you?  Do _you_ think he’s a coward?”

 

“Of course not.  I love him!”

 

“And you wouldn’t have known him at all if he hadn’t chosen to go against his commanders to return to you at risk to his own safety.  He’s very fortunate he wasn’t executed for an act of treason.”

 

“He was brave, wasn’t he?” Baelfire asked softly, a tremor of awe in his voice.

 

“He was.  What happened when he finally made it home?” she asked, trying to steer him back to the story.

 

The boy looked away, a dark frown covering his gentle features.  “Mama rejected him, called him a coward and wanted little to do with him ever again.  Papa took care of me while she spent most of her time at the tavern drowning her sorrows.  She should have been thrilled that he’d come home at all.  Then when I was about seven, she left us…ran off with a pirate.  Papa said she was taken against her will, but I never believed that.  I listened to the tales spread about the village…about how she willingly chose to be with a pirate rather than stay with the village coward…or me.”

 

Belle dropped to her knees beside his chair and gathered his lithe frame into her arms, her fingers carding through his soft hair.  “It’s not your fault, darling.  It’s hers.  How could she leave such a precious family?  She must have hurt you both so terribly.”

 

He rubbed at his eyes.  “You like papa, don’t you, Belle?  You’re not going to let him scare you away, are you?”

 

Morraine came to kneel next to her, her dark eyes troubled.  “He’s not really all that bad.  It’s his curse.”

 

“Morraine!”

 

Three pairs of eyes darted to the doorway, the children paling upon seeing their father standing there.  They knew they weren’t allowed to speak of his curse, yet Morraine had felt Belle had a right to know now that she was a part of their family.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you’d eaten and were getting ready for bed,” he said, turning to leave again.

 

“Rum, wait,” Belle called after him, hurrying to catch up to his longer stride.  He stopped in the corridor and turned, his posture stiff in a fight or flight stance.  “Where are you going, husband?” she asked softly, slipping her cool hand into his own.

 

“To my tower.  As I said, I just wanted to check on the children,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something she didn’t recognize as she met his gaze.

 

“Are you coming to bed soon?” she asked shyly, biting her lip.

 

His brow furrowed as he stared down at her, bewildered.  “You want me to?”

 

“Yes.  I’ll tuck the children in after their baths and join you as soon as I can.  I’d like to talk with you more…if that’s alright?”

 

“I’ll wait for you upstairs, pet,” he whispered as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.  He watched her go back to the children, his hand rising to cover the bit of flesh her lips had brushed.  Would she never cease to surprise him?  He’d turned a happy day into a disaster in the space of seconds and still she wished to be with him, to talk with him.  Hope bloomed in his chest for the second time that day and he vowed to do better, to fight harder to deserve to have her by his side…always.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Rumpelstiltskin ran an agitated hand through his damp hair as he glanced in the mirror, frowning at the crimson silk nightshirt he wore over his black sleeping pants.  He looked down at his hands, his scowl only growing blacker at the sight of his green gold skin.  What he’d been before hadn’t been much better, he admitted ruefully, but at least he’d looked human.  It was the girl’s fault.  He wanted her to accept him, but how could she when he looked like the monster he’d claimed to be when he’d threatened her earlier.  His resolve to fight for her was already beginning to waver as the darkness seemed to expand within him.  Sometimes no matter how hard he fought, it couldn’t be quelled.

 

The Dark One snickered in the back of his mind, enjoying the spinner’s discomfort and anxiety over his little wife.  _What? Are you hoping, that she’ll be the one to break your curse?  Please,_ it scoffed.

 

_She’s special.  Any other woman would have run screaming from the castle._

 

His image shimmered in the mirror, the demon taking on the ethereal reflection to taunt him.  Its giggle trilled through the room, yet only the spinner could hear it.  _You will NEVER break this curse!  I would think you’d have come to terms with that by now.  You can pass it on, Spinner, but you will never banish me and live to tell the tale._

_My Belle, she’ll—_

_Never love you!  She will run from you just like Milah did.  You’re unlovable…worthless…cowardly…what woman would want you?  She wouldn’t even be here were it not for the deal she made with you._

 

“She will!”

 

A splash could be heard on the other side of the bathroom door as she called, “Rum, who are you talking to?  Did one of the children get out of bed?”

 

His wiry frame vibrated with barely controlled rage at the demon he played host to, but he managed to keep his voice level as he answered.  “No, pet.  It’s fine.”

 

“I’ll be out in just a few moments,” she said after a minute of silence, as if she were trying to listen for another voice in the room.

 

He threw a drape over the mirror and moved to the hearth and the table next to it where he kept a bottle of spirits, hoping a drink would help relax him.  He’d do better, he vowed as the fiery liquid burned a path down his throat.  She’d stay…she’d stay because she loved him and the children, not because of the deal.  He simply had to keep the Dark One from his machinations and efforts to gain control over him.  Belle would help him.  Her light, her goodness would keep him away. 

 

What had made him doubt her earlier when she’d been nothing but patient with him?  She was curious, nothing more.  He couldn’t jump down her throat and instantly suspect an ulterior motive every time she asked a question.  How was she to get to know him if he acted like a beast? 

 

The sorcerer jerked reflexively as she touched his shoulder.  “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to startle you.  Are…are you feeling better now?” she asked softly, clasping her hands before her.

 

He couldn’t even look at her, instead keeping his eyes trained on the liquor in his glass.  “No,” he mumbled with a shake of his head.

 

Belle reached up and smoothed the hair away from his eyes, drawing his gaze.  “Can I help?  Talk to me, my husband,” she whispered, reaching up to kiss his cheek.  He turned his head, capturing her lips with his instead.  She pushed gently at his shoulders.  “Talk to me.  Tell me what’s bothering you.  I just want to help you.”

 

She let out a little squeak as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed, settling her gently on his lap but making no move to touch her as he’d done the previous evening.  “I’m sorry I frightened you, pet,” he whispered, his breath ghosting against the shell of her ear.

 

“I shouldn’t have pushed—“

 

“You did nothing wrong,” he said, his arms tightening about her waist.  “I overreacted.”

 

“I understand.  It’s hard for you to trust.  I had a nice chat with the children…I know your wife left you and Bae.” She carded her fingers through the hair at his temple, urging him to lean his head against her shoulder.  “Are you afraid I’ll leave too?  That I’ll break our deal?”  Her fingers traced over the line of his jaw.  “You’re my husband, Rumpelstiltskin.  I’ll not leave you.”

 

“You might if you knew what I’d done,” he breathed out in an agonized whisper as he moved her to lie back against the pillows, pulling her flush against his body as he laid at her side.

 

Belle closed her eyes, realizing what he was trying to tell her without being hindered by the words that seemed to lodge in his throat.  “Does Baelfire know?”

 

“No,” he said, his gaze raking her face.  “He can never know that I killed his mother.  He can never know that I found her, happy and content with her life as a pirate’s whore.  He can never know that I plunged my hand into her chest and stole her heart…or that I crushed it to dust in my hand while I made that cur watch.  I told you…I’m a monster.”  He raised up on his elbow to look down into the deep pools of her eyes.  He held her so tightly he could feel her trembling, hear the rapid pants of her breath, see her fear.  “That is what you were forced to marry, pet.  It was just a matter of time before you saw it for yourself.”

 

Belle slumped back against the pillows as the sharp metallic twang of his magic swirled about her and she was left alone.  She pounded her fist against the mattress in frustration and crawled to the edge of the bed.  “Stupid oversized bed,” she growled as she lowered herself to the floor.  “Stupid sorcerer.” She stubbed her toe on the dresser as she pulled her robe on and made her way to the door, limping slightly.  “Ugh!” She was getting mighty tired of him running out on a conversation every time he grew uncomfortable with the subject matter and she wasn’t going to let him do it again.  She was happy with the man she’d married and if she had to deal with the beast to get him back…so be it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guess who’s ahead on her chapters? Me!! So I thought I would give you all a little mid-week treat. I really hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please leave a review to let me know what you thought about it. Next chapter Belle and Rumpel have a heart to heart that ends most pleasantly…get your minds out of the gutter!! Well…maybe just a little smutty (o: Thank you all so much for reading and sending me much desired feedback. It is simply a pleasure writing this story for you!! See you Friday Night!!


	8. Coerced Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is rated M for mature and smexy times :D so if that’s not your thing, here’s your warning.

 

Rumpelstiltskin scowled down at the dagger gripped tightly in his hands, his name engraved in bold black letters across the blade.  No matter how long he stared at the accursed thing, no matter how much he wished, it never changed.  It would be tied to him for as long as he bore the curse of the Dark One.  He tossed it onto his worktable with a muffled epithet.  He’d left her, seeking refuge in his tower, unable to bear seeing the condemnation in her eyes.  Well, he was certain he would have seen it if he’d looked long enough.  He’d fled, leaving her there to muddle through the things he’d told her about Milah.  He was a coward.  After bearing the sobriquet for so long, he could no more deny it than pull the stars from the sky.

 

The sorcerer turned away from the empty cauldron on the table, the cabinets and shelves filled with ingredients necessary for his trade, and the many books scattered about the room, moving to the open window.  It was icy cold in the room, yet he relished in it.  His body was more tolerable to heat and cold that mere mortals, and sometimes it took extreme temperatures to truly make him feel.  He was fire and ice all rolled into one…and manic besides.  Not the healthiest combination.

 

What was he going to do about his little wife?  He’d surely blown any chance he might have had with her.  Now that she was left with no doubt that he was a murderer, she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him.  What the hell had possessed him to tell her about Milah?  He raked a hand down his long face and cursed once more under his breath.  He didn’t want to wake the children with his foul temper.  There would be too many questions he didn’t have an answer for.

 

His Belle was entirely too good, too pure.  Eventually, he would smother her light in the darkness and drag her down into it with him.  Yet, how could he stay away from her?  He was drawn to her as surely as the moth to the burning flame, just waiting to be burned, but unable to resist.  Gods! He wanted her so much, her soft curves pressed to his lean lines, her perfect rosebud mouth joined with his as he kissed her senseless, his hands buried in her chestnut tresses, the silk slipping through his fingers.  His body tightened as he leaned his palms against the windowsill.  He drew in several lungfuls of the frigid air and willed his body to obey his commands.  She would never want him to touch her again, no matter how innocently, not now that she knew him to be the monster he claimed to be.

 

Soft footsteps echoed up the tower stairs and he had to wonder which of the children had decided to disturb his _un_ rest.  They should be abed, dreaming sweet fluffy things, not traipsing up to his morbid tower in the dead of night.  He sighed as a soft knock sounded on the door and he was glad he’d had the foresight to leave it unlocked should Bae or Morraine need him in the night.  “Come!” he barked, his voice hoarse with the weight of his emotions.  He cleared his throat, trying for a more amiable tone.  “Come in.”

 

“Rumpelstiltskin?”

 

The imp closed his eyes, the breath whooshing from his lungs at the sound of her soft voice.  She’d come to break their deal, surely.  She realized the mistake she’d made in marrying him and she wanted out.  “What are you doing in here, pet?  This room is off limits if I hadn’t mentioned it before,” his voice flat and emotionless, frigid as the wintry night.

 

“You hadn’t,” she said quietly.  She shivered and wrapped her arms about herself.  “Gods!  It’s colder than Niflheim in here!”

 

Braziers of coals lit in quick succession about the room, their fires leaping and dancing in the dim room, offering their warmth to the Lady of the Dark Castle, the enchanted fortress quick to comply with her unspoken desires.  He sighed and turned to glance furtively at her over his shoulder.  “Why are you here, pet?” he asked, trying to keep the bite out of his tone.  He’d done enough damage without making it any worse for himself.

 

“I-I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” she replied, her voice gentle.  “You were upset when you left me and…” her words trailed away as she inwardly scolded herself for her lack of courage.  He may be her husband, but he’d been nothing but good to her.  She doubted she would have received such gentleness and compassion from her former betrothed.  If she were ever going to have any kind of relationship with her dark sorcerer, she would have to learn to be brave and face him head on.  “Rumple, why did you run?”

 

“I didn’t run from you, dearie,” he tittered with a shrill giggle, a sound she was coming to detest in short order.  “How absurd, to think that the Dark One would run from a little girl like you.”

 

“And yet you did,” she countered, rubbing her arms briskly to rid them of the chill.  She wasn’t sure if it was caused by the frigid temperature of the room or the coldness in his tone, but she wouldn’t let it deter her from speaking with her husband.  “I’d like to know why.”

 

She sighed and sank down onto the stool set before his worktable, pulling her feet up to rub the iciness from her reddening skin.  Still he wouldn’t turn to face her.  “You overstep yourself, _wife,_ ”

 

Belle wondered where her good sense had fled as she forged ahead.  “Are you afraid I’ll judge you for your past misdeeds?”

 

He was tempted to bang his head against the stone on either side of the window because surely it would have been less painful.  “How nice and proper of you to call murder a _misdeed_ ,” he chuckled ruefully.  “Trying to spare my feelings, pet?  Or will it make you sleep easier at night to think I’m not the monster I am?”

 

She fought off a wave of chills as she trained her gaze on his back.  She wished he would turn around and actually look at her.  “Since I’ve met you, all I’ve known you to be is a man, not a monster.  You haven’t shown me the monster, Rumpelstiltskin.  You’ve saved my kingdom, offered to share your life with me, spared the life of my odious betrothed instead of killing him outright,” she ticked off on her fingers, her voice gaining strength as her confidence grew.  “You’ve shown me the loving father you are, a landowner willing to work with his tenants instead of throwing them out in the snow…and someone who shows regret for past actions.  I don’t see you as a monster.  Monsters don’t show remorse as you have.”

 

“How can you be so sure I regret killing Milah?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.  He didn’t want to look at things from Belle’s point of view.  She didn’t have a clue as to what darkness dwelled in his soul.  “She hurt my son…she left him!  It felt good, dearie,” he sneered.  “To have her heart crumble to dust in my hand while her lover watched…”

 

“At the time?  How did you feel afterwards?  You had to have loved her at some point if you married her.”  She sighed, knowing she was right whether he wished to acknowledge it or not.  “Rumpel, how are we ever going to make this work between us if you won’t talk to me?”  A yawning chasm of quiet wore between them until it made her fidgety and more than a little nervous.

 

Her fingers swept slowly over the worktable as she tried to distract herself from her husband’s brooding silence.  The table held mundane objects, potion bottles, a small paring knife of the like she’d find in the kitchens below, various roots which she easily identified as mandrake and ginger, a cloth for cleaning up his messes, and…

 

Belle’s brow knit in a puzzled frown as she tilted her head to the side in thoughtful contemplation.  The blade gleamed in the muted light of the oil lamps, drawing her gaze.  It was just a bit smaller than a short sword, the blade wavy with a leather-bound hilt, but it was her husband’s name engraved upon the cool metal that had her hand seeking it out.  She caressed the steel from tip to hilt, her fingertips dipping into each of the grooves of his name until her hand wrapped itself carefully about the handle.

 

“Rumpel, why is your name on this dagger?  This seems a bit extravagant even for you, husband,” she chuckled, holding it up to her gaze to inspect it more closely.  It felt strange in her hand, a tingle of awareness creeping up her arm.

 

Rumpelstiltskin whirled away from the window to face her, his eyes wide and black, panic twisting his mouth into a feral snarl, his hands curled into claws at his sides.  “Put it down!” he growled menacingly as he took a step towards her.

 

Belle’s eyes widened in alarm as she took in the unnatural color of his eyes.  She liked the way his eyes glowed like twin amber gems, but the pure blackness without a hint of white sent a violent shudder of fear through her.  This was the monster she’d yet to see and she felt true terror.  She rose from the stool and backed away from him, clasping the dagger to her breasts.  She wasn’t about to release the only weapon within reach.  She may need it if he turned violent.

 

She tried for a soothing tone, though her voice shook.  “R-Rum, what’s wrong?  What did I do?”  He didn’t answer, but continued to advance on her.  “Rum, please.  Stop!”

 

Rumpelstiltskin stopped midstride, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, his lips still curled in a sneer, but he had no other choice but to obey her command.  His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, preventing him from spewing forth the curses choking him.  His little _wife_.  He should have known she’d want nothing more than his power.  She didn’t want _him._   He’d thought she was so innocent, but she was no better than any other who sought his power.  The Dark One whispered sinisterly in his ear, drawing on the spinner’s inherent doubts, his self-loathing, his cowardice, fueling his rage and misgivings towards the princess.

 

Belle stared at him in surprise as he obeyed her request.  He still looked as though he could happily eviscerate her with his bare hands, but at least he wasn’t stalking her any longer.  She would keep the weapon, however, thinking it would be best to have something with which to protect herself.  Her eyes narrowed on him, realizing he was barely breathing.  She stepped forward, circling around him and the only movement she could detect was that of his sharp gaze as it followed her.

 

“Rumpel, please tell me what’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes pleading with him.

 

His stained teeth ground together as he glowered at her, trying to think of a way to answer her question without revealing too much.  “That’s mine, pet,” he spat viciously through his teeth.  “I don’t like it when people touch my things.”

 

“No, I think there’s more to it than that.”  She looked down at the dagger clutched tightly in her hand.  “What’s so special about this knife?”

 

Pain curled in his gut, a thousand sharp pinpricks stabbing at his insides as he fought against the compulsion to answer her questions.  His brow beaded with sweat and a groan forced its way past his lips, the pain increasing the longer he withheld the information for which she longed.  Finally, the words wrestled their way past his teeth.  “It’s the source of my power, my curse,” he gasped, his breathing labored as the agony abated.  “Whosoever wields the dagger commands the Dark One.”

 

She gaped at him, her lower lip trembling as her hand raised to cover her mouth.  “You really are cursed?”  He nodded reluctantly, his gaze never leaving her.  “And you think I would wish to control you,” she said, understanding dawning clearly in her cerulean eyes.

 

“Who wouldn’t want to control the Dark One?  To have that power in their hands to grant their smallest desire?” he snarled in a quiet hiss, lowering his gaze to the hardwood floor beneath his feet.

 

Her hand, so small compared to his, rose to brush the hair away from his eyes where it had fallen over his face in a curtain of wiry curls.  “Me,” she whispered, leaning up on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering just a moment before she dropped back to her heels.  “I don’t wish to control you, Rum.”

 

The imp stared at her incredulously as she took his hand in hers and pressed the hilt of the dagger into his palm.  Instantly he felt his free will return and he slumped in relief.  With a snap of his fingers, he banished the dagger back to its hiding place beneath the castle proper.  “Why?” he asked after a moment, unable to understand why she would give up unlimited power.

 

“Why would I wish to control you, Rumpel?  You’re my husband, not my puppet.  How will I ever know the real you if the dagger stands between us?” she asked softly, burrowing into his chest as his arms slipped around her.  “Just please don’t shut me out.”

 

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Belle,” he murmured wonderingly against her hair, his voice filled with awe for the little princess he’d won as his bride.

 

“Then you’ve apparently been meeting the wrong people,” she chuckled, reveling in the warmth and tenderness of his embrace.  The darkness seemed to have receded, replaced with the loving gentle man she was slowly beginning to care for.  “I’ve never met anyone like you before, either, Rumpelstiltskin.  I think my life is richer for having met you.”

 

A tiny crack appeared in the walls he’d built around his heart after Milah had left and he squeezed his wife just a bit tighter.  She emitted a tiny squeak of surprise as he lifted her in his arms, her legs wrapping about his waist as she held tightly to his shoulders.  He carried her around the table and settled on the stool with her on his lap, her legs falling on either side of his hips.  She blushed deeply as she took in their position, her long nightdress hiked up around the tops of her thighs.  It was positively indecent.

 

He sighed as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in.  The scent of roses and lilac blooms enveloped him, gently masking her true fragrance.  She hesitantly curled her arms about his shoulders and let the tension ease from her body, her fingers stroking gently through his soft hair.  “Forgive me, Belle.  I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat.  “Please.”

 

Belle continued to stroke her fingers through his hair, the gesture bringing him much needed peace after his earlier upset.  “There is nothing to forgive, husband.  Your fears made you lash out at me and I’m sure I won’t be the last time as we get to know one another.”  Her hands slipped down to his shoulders, caressing him through the silk of his nightshirt to ease away the tension.  “With the magic you wield, you could have hurt me…but you didn’t.  You’re not a monster.”

 

“You’re too good to be true, pet,” he murmured, content to simply hold her, relishing the feel of her soft body held so tightly in his arms.  He should be comforting her, yet he couldn’t resist her touch and how it soothed away his anxiety.  He frowned as his nose brushed against the stiff cotton of her nightdress.  “Why didn’t you wear the nightgown I bought you today?” he asked, his lips trailing along her ivory throat until he found the rapidly beating pulse point beneath her jaw.  “I don’t like this one,” he grumbled, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

 

Her blush deepened.  “I…because it happens to be…” she swallowed convulsively, thoroughly distracted by the tingling sensation he was evoking along her skin.  “…scandalously short and just a bit drafty?”

 

The window slammed shut behind him and the temperature rose a good ten degrees in the room.  He even lit the small hearth in the tower to offer its warmth.  A wicked smirk slowly curled his thin lips as he brushed a long lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing along her neck to trace over her collarbone.  “And now that it’s warmer in here?  Would you consider wearing it for me, hm?”

 

Belle ducked her head shyly, chewing thoughtfully on her lip.  “I—I don’t know, Rum.  You said—“

 

“I promised we wouldn’t go any further than you wished…until you’re ready,” he murmured, tugging on a lock of hair until her lips met his to glide softly in a gentle exploration.  He drew away slightly to watch her through half-lidded eyes.  “But you’ll let me kiss you, won’t you, little wife?”

 

She shrugged, wincing as if waiting for him to lose his temper once more should he not like her answer.  “Y-Yes,” she admitted, striving to be honest with him.   “I like your kisses.”

 

He tilted her chin up so he could see her more clearly.  “I frightened you with my temper.  Belle, I’m sorry,” he apologized once more, pressing his brow to hers.  “I’ve never had anyone touch the dagger before.  Baelfire, yes, but it was only for a moment and I trust him implicitly.  I—“

 

“What did it feel like?” she asked, toying with the ends of his hair as she regarded him steadily, searching for any signs of unrest in his gaze.  She wanted to be prepared should he lose his temper again.

 

He pulled one of her hands down to rest in his, stroking his thumb over her palm and marveling at the difference between their skin tones.  “It felt as if you’d wrapped your little hands about my heart.  All I could see was darkness as it rose up in me.  It made me want to strike you, hurt you, anything to keep you from having control over me, yet I was a captive to your will.”  He kissed each of her fingertips in turn.  “I have to fight so hard to keep the demon caged so it can’t hurt my children.  It’s threatened by the love I feel for them.  I think it feels threatened by you as well.”  He took her hand and rested it against his chest, over his heart.  “I never want to hurt you, pet.”

 

“I don’t think you will.”

 

“Belle—“

 

“You would have done so already if you would have really wanted to.”  She wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him closer, fitting her body to his, stroking her hand over his hair again as he sighed into her shoulder.  “There’s something between us, my husband, something that whispers hope and promise for the future if we but let it grow.  I don’t know how to be a wife or a mother, and I know even less about matters between a man and a woman, but whatever this is…it’s special, Rumpelstiltskin.  Can’t you feel it?”

 

He nodded, his brow bumping against her shoulder as his arms tightened about her waist.  “My brave little wife, so kind to an old monster.”

 

Belle smiled for the first time since she’d entered the tower.  “I don’t think you’re a monster, though you do have some beastly tendencies that could be quelled,” she chuckled, wanting to make it clear that she was teasing him.  She cradled his face in her palms, her thumbs stroking lovingly over his sharp cheekbones, and pulled him in for a sweet, lingering brush of her lips.  “Rum?”

 

“Hm?” he queried, realizing aside from last night when she’d practically thrown herself at him, this was the first time she’d willingly kissed him first.

 

Her chest was stained pink as a blush rose up her neck to settle in her cheeks, a shy smile upon her lips.  “I think I’d like to go change now.”

 

His lips parted with a sharp intake of breath, but still he had to ask, to make sure he was quite clear on her wishes.  “Into your new night gown?”

 

Belle closed her eyes before nodding jerkily, trying to gather her courage.  “Yes.”

 

With a snap of his fingers, her voluminous cotton nightdress vanished, her new gown in its place.  Her face flamed as his eyes took her in and darkened, his pupils blown wide with what she could only believe was desire.  She’d seen men in her father’s court look at her in the same manner.  It was at those times that Mildred would make a noise of disgust in her throat and usher her to another part of the room.  She rather liked that look on her husband’s face.  It made her feel wanted, desired, cherished. 

 

The difference between the gold silk baby doll nightdress and the stiff cotton that had covered her so completely was startling.  She was barely covered in his colors, but they were flattering nonetheless, the gold silk clinging seductively to her soft curves.  Thin straps held it up at her shoulders and crimson lace edged the low décolletage and hem.  However, it was the peek a boo band of lace beneath her breasts that drew his gaze.  No wonder she’d thought it a bit drafty to wear to his tower, he mused with delight.

 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, chuckling when she covered her chest self-consciously with her arms.  He trailed his sharp nails over her thighs, raising gooseflesh in their wake, a touch so light it didn’t mar her perfect skin.  He lightly gripped her wrists, tugging them away to rest on his silk-clad chest.  “Don’t hide from me, little one.”

 

Her hands fisted in the crimson silk of his nightshirt, the fabric sliding smoothly against her fingertips, but she wasn’t able to enjoy it as visions of things said to her by her ladies came rushing to the forefront of her mind.  She might put on a brave front when faced with things that frightened her, but the thought of pain _terrified_ her.  And she knew there was pain involved with love-making and she wanted no part of it, no matter how much she enjoyed her husband’s kisses.

 

A little furrow appeared between Rumpelstiltskin’s brows as he felt her tension return, this time, however, it was accompanied by a tremor of unease.  “What is it, pet?  Why are you so afraid now?” he asked, rubbing gently over her upper arms in an innocent caress meant to reassure her.  “Haven’t I given you my word not to—“

 

“Yes,” she said, cutting off his speech by covering his lips with her fingertips.  “When we finally…I’m just…will it hurt?”

 

His lips gaped behind her fingers and his frown darkened considerably.  “Just the first time, I’m told, but I promise I will make it as painless as possible.  Belle, what did those maids of yours tell you to have you so frightened of my touch?”

 

She stared down at the laces on his shirt, twisting one around her finger to avoid his gaze.  “They told me it would be painful, but that it was my duty and I had no choice. Mildred said if I was lucky, my husband would be gentle and hurry with the deed. Rum, I don’t like pain.  I was thrown from my horse when I was eight and broke my leg in two places.  It was horrible and … I just don’t deal well with pain of any kind,” she said in a small voice as she shared her fears with him.

 

He was of a mind to return to Avonlea and level the palace.  How dare they instill such a fear of intimacy in his little princess?  Better yet, what kind of men dwelled in the tiny kingdom that they weren’t able to satisfy their women?  It was a rather disturbing thought and one he’d rather not think on more than necessary.  It was tragic that his Belle would be upset if he were to wipe her kingdom from the realm.  Now how was he supposed to put her fears at ease?  It wasn’t as if he were a Casanova in the bloody bedroom!  A fact which Milah had never failed to remind him.

 

His hands slid along her arms and over her shoulders, coming to rest against her pale throat, his thumbs gently pushing up to lift her face to his.  Still she wouldn’t raise her eyes to his as she chewed nervously on her lower lip.  Perhaps…  “Belle, dearie,” he whispered softly.  “Look at me.”  He dropped a kiss to the corner of her mouth and brushed the hair away from her eyes.  “Look at me, little wife.”

 

He could see the apprehension in her eyes as she finally lifted them to meet his.  “Trust me not to hurt you.  We’ll go slowly, hm?  If you want to stop, don’t hesitate to tell me, Belle.  This is about you, not me.”  He brushed his lips to hers and dropped a kiss to the opposite corner of her mouth as he continued with his most persuasive tone, trying to make her relax once more.  “If you don’t like something I do, stop me at once, alright?  _You_ are in control.  Will you trust me to make you feel good?”

 

Belle drew in a deep breath, releasing it in a slow calming exhale as she nodded, acquiescing to his wishes.  She knew she wouldn’t have received the same offer from Gaston on their wedding night.  She’d been terrified of the thought of going to her marriage bed with that lummox.  She was certain he would have handled the bedding as he did everything else, with brute strength and not a care for her comfort.  Rumpelstiltskin offered her a choice, taking her feelings into consideration, her comfort paramount.  Her heart softened towards him a little more as her hands slid up over his shoulders to tangle in his hair, pulling him towards her and offering her lips for his kiss.  She’d never known a man could be so gentle and thoughtful in his passions, but she was grateful nevertheless.

 

His arm wrapped loosely about her hips and drew her forward until she was pressed flush against his groin, a low moan rumbling in his chest as the heat of her core came in contact with his cloth covered erection.  She didn’t pull away, though, her attention focused on his mouth as he teased her with gentle, sipping kisses.  She sighed, the tension easing from her stiff limbs as he kissed her.  It felt as if a million tiny butterflies had taken wing in her belly and she fought to catch her breath at the sensation.  He smiled against her lips as she squirmed on his lap, realizing she was giving in to what she was feeling rather than the tumultuous turmoil in her mind.

 

She gasped as he rocked his hips gently against her, giving him the access he needed to delve past her lips, his tongue flicking tenderly against the roof of her mouth, reveling in his first true taste of her.  Her stomach clenched, though not in pain and she drew back, startled, breaking their kiss.  “What—“

 

Belle brought her fingers to her lips as he sat back with a pleased smile as he watched her every move.  “What is it?  Tell me what you’re feeling,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire, but his eyes held the utmost patience.  He would not ruin her first experience with desire, even if it meant he became a permanent resident of the icy lake.

 

Her brow knit in a puzzled frown as his hand ghosted over her belly, his fingers pressing gently.  She nodded.  “How did you know?”

 

“Because I feel it too, pet,” he said, gently kneading her flesh where the heat and pressure coiled inside her.  “It’s desire.  Though how you could desire me at all…”

 

She smiled, her tongue snaking out to catch the last taste of him on her lower lip as she pulled him back to her.  “Kiss me again?” she whispered against his lips, her eyes widening as a low rumble of pleasure sounded deep in his chest, vibrating against her hand pressed between them.  She opened for him again and he didn’t hesitate to explore her mouth, chasing her tongue with his own as she tried to hide from him. 

 

He chuckled softly, nipping lightly at her lower lip.  He felt his cock swell painfully as he took in her blown pupils, flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips.  He drew in a deep breath, willing his heart to slow.  He couldn’t rush her, but he knew if she looked like this after a few kisses, she’d be glorious when she came apart with her first orgasm.  He had a feeling she wouldn’t be leaving the tower that night until she did.  “Give me your tongue, pet,” he rasped against her lips.  “Stop hiding it from me.”

 

“Wh-What?” Belle asked, her eyes widening in surprise.

 

He traced the outline of her lips with a long finger, his gaze locked with hers.  “There’s much more to kissing than what we’ve been doing.  Give me your tongue.”  The lines around his eyes deepened as he cast her a wicked smile.  “Unless you’d prefer to stop?”

 

Her husband rocked against her again and she couldn’t stop the little moan that fought its way past her lips.  She shook her head.  “No, n-not yet.”  This time when his lips met hers, her tongue was there to greet his and she gasped as he coaxed it into his mouth.  When he suckled gently on it, every nerve in her body came alive as if she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning.  Her nipples, pressed against his chest tightened and the heat and pressure in her core intensified.  Now it was she who rocked against the hard bulge concealed by the soft cotton covering his groin.  The hand she had in his hair curled into a fist as she gave in to the pleasure of her tongue in his mouth.  Her other hand curled around his nape, her short nails digging into his skin as she explored his mouth and rocked her hips.

 

His arm curled beneath the soft swell of her arse as he guided her in a steady rhythm.  He knew she didn’t have a clue as to what she was doing to him, but he wasn’t of a mind to care at the moment.  Her body was seeking release, lost in its natural inclination for pleasure.  It drove her on, making her logical mind surrender to pure sensation.  He dragged his mouth away from hers, burying his face against the crook of her neck, his teeth gently scoring her pale flesh, suckling sharply and then laving over the tiny mark with his tongue as he helped her increase the tempo of her movements, his own pleasure mounting inexorably.

 

He palmed her breast, squeezing gently and her eyes flew open in alarm, but she seemed unable to stop writhing and rocking against him, even if she’d have wanted to.  He knew she was close, her breath coming in sharp stuttering pants, her thighs quivering against his hips.

 

“R-Rumple,” she gasped, the pleasure stealing her breath.  “I need…

 

“I know, Belle,” he groaned, gnashing his teeth to maintain the iron grip he held on his control.  “Don’t fight it…let it come…relax.”

 

He wanted to kiss her again so badly, but he didn’t want to miss seeing her fall apart.  He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a little pinch.  The shock was enough to drive her over the edge and she keened long and low in her throat, her body going stiff as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.  Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as she locked her gaze with his.

 

Rumpelstiltskin swiftly rose to his feet and laid her back across his worktable, his arms cushioning her silk clad back against the rough wood.  His cock pressed against her core through their nightclothes.  What he wouldn’t have given in that moment to be buried inside her, to have his length enfolded by her welcoming heat, but he would be satisfied with this for now.  He continued to rock against her as he claimed her lips once more, his tongue thrusting in time with his hips until he couldn’t hold back a moment longer.  He buried his face against her throat as he spilled himself in his cotton breeches, murmuring and whispering incoherent words of praise to his precious wife.

 

He pressed the lightest of kisses to the hollow of her throat as his magic carried them to their bed.  Another burst of magic removed their mess and he rolled over onto his back to pull the duvet over their chilled bodies.  He settled her back into his arms and she blushed as she met his eyes. 

 

“I’ve never…I didn’t…” Belle cursed inwardly, scolding herself for sounding like a babbling idiot instead of the well-read scholar she’d always thought herself to be.  “I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

 

He leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose.  “Did I hurt you, pet?”

 

She shook her head, her face flaming as she thought of her wanton behavior, but he had caused her no pain.

 

“And did you enjoy it?”

 

A shy smile curled her lips as she buried her face against his chest.  “I did,” she said, her voice barely more than an embarrassed whisper.  “I...um…wouldn’t be opposed to doing that again, husband.”

 

He chuckled, his hand giving her hip a gentle squeeze.  “Go to sleep, little wife.  There will be time for more later…there’ll be time for everything.”

 

Belle pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw and rested her head on his shoulder, yawning as a wave of sleepiness dragged at her lids.  She went to sleep, her lasts thoughts of her ladies in Avonlea, thinking they were missing out if they thought making love with their husbands was a duty to be tolerated.  It was, in fact, a pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, thing seem to be back on track with them now. At least it’s a head start on his trust issues. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I would love to hear what you think, so don’t hesitate to drop me a comment :D. Sorry the children didn’t make it into this chapter, but I assure you they’ll be back in the next installment.


	9. Chapter 9

 

Baelfire stared at his sister through narrowed eyes as he paced the Great Hall before the roaring hearth.  “How can you be so calm?”

 

Morraine turned the page of her book and completely ignored him, her eyes softening as she read the words on the page, her feet tucked up under her long skirts.

 

“He was so angry last night, ‘Raine.  What if he turned her into a snail?” he asked, pausing mid-step, the color leeching out of his face.

 

Morraine arched a brow at her brother and sighed.  “Papa hasn’t turned Belle into a snail, Bae,” she said patiently, her eyes never leaving the page.

 

“He’s done it before!  Remember that day we were all playing ball in the marketplace?” he asked, shaking a stubby finger at her.  He gave a flamboyant twirl of his wrist.  “Poof, no more tinker, just a nice squishy snail.”  His face fell.  “At least he was before papa stepped on him.”  He made a face, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

 

“Shh,” his sister shushed him, more than a little peeved with his theatrics.

 

“Morraine!  I’m telling you—“

 

Morraine slammed her book shut with a growl, finally having lost her patience.  “Bae, I find it rather disturbing the lack of faith you have in our papa.  Can’t you see what’s happening between them?  They’re very drawn to one another.  He won’t hurt her!” she said in a furious hiss.  She was more than prepared to tweak his nose if he disagreed with her.  “He won’t turn her into a snail.”

 

“But—“

 

She took his elbow and led him over to the settee, pouring him a cup of tea and pressing it into his hands.  “Papa had been the Dark One for all of two weeks when he did that to the tinker.  Look how hard he works to keep the demon locked up.  He won’t hurt Belle, you’ll see.”

 

Baelfire sighed, realizing his sister was right.  “I just want his curse to break.  Do you really think she might be his true love?” he asked hopefully.

 

Morraine prepared her own cup and gingerly took a sip of the steaming brew.  “I don’t know.  I know she’s attracted to him physically…”  She snorted as he flushed bright red and lowered his eyes to his cup.  “…and who would have thought that would happen?  _We_ think he’s handsome, but we’re his children and we love him.  It’s altogether different that Belle likes the way he looks.”

 

Baelfire shook his head.  “You don’t think something’s wrong with her do you?”

 

“Bae!” Morraine scolded, rolling her eyes.  “Do you really think he would have married her if he thought something was wrong with her?  She’s a princess,” she said, as if that were to be the end of it.

 

“Well, there’s that one princess to the north that claims fairies live in her dressing room,” he snickered.  Morraine slapped her hand to her brow and raked it down her face, glowering at the boy.  “Kidding!”

 

“Princess Katerina isn’t burning with a full wick, Bae.  Papa said so himself,” she retorted with an imperious sniff.

 

Baelfire sipped thoughtfully at his tea, ginning cheekily at her over the rim of his cup.  “I think papa might find happiness with Belle, if he’ll allow himself to relax.  I’ve never seen him so anxious with a girl before.  And he really likes Belle.  I can tell,” he whispered smugly.

 

Morraine gaped at him.  “When have you seen him with _any_ girls…er…women aside from your mother?”  She speared him with a pointed stare.  “Didn’t we just have a conversation about thinking before we speak?”

 

He childishly stuck his tongue out at her to which she responded by chucking her scone at his head.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle yawned widely and frowned at the heaviness on her chest.  She cracked one eye open and the furrow between her eyes smoothed out as she glanced down at her husband’s curly head pillowed against her breasts.  Her cheeks colored brightly as she remembered the previous evening.  It had been a wonderful day that had nearly been ruined with his dark mood once they’d returned home.  She was just thankful it had ended so pleasantly.  She was tempted to write to Mildred and give her a firm talking to about marital relations.  Apparently the old prude had no idea what she was talking about.

 

She stretched languorously and hooked her leg over his hip.  His thigh pressed snugly between her own, pinning her to the bed, so there was no chance of her making a timely escape…not that she’d want to, she thought with a shy grin.  She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, enjoying this newfound intimacy with her husband.  She’d feared marriage for so long, it was like a weight being lifted from her shoulders to have someone who cared for her as a person instead of merely an adornment or a prize to be won.  Gaston hadn’t loved her.  She’d merely been a means to gain the throne.  Perhaps with time, however, she could come to love her sorcerer.  If fortune really wanted to favor her, he would love her in return.

 

Belle carded her fingers through his hair and stroked over his weathered skin, wishing she could see him.  It was so dark in his chamber, the dark drapes not allowing the light to permeate the chamber.  The fire that burned constantly in the room, to chase away the chill cast its flickering light across his face, and she would have to be content with it.  It was better than nothing, she supposed.  She closed her eyes and pressed a soft kiss to his brow as she settled against the pillows to wait for him to wake.  The ornate grandfather clock in the corridor outside the master suite chimed and she counted, her brow furrowing as it continued to ring…eight…nine…ten…before it stopped.  Her eyes flew open and she shook her husband’s shoulder.

 

“Rumpel!  Rumpel, it’s ten o’clock!  We’ve slept through breakfast and the children are no doubt worried.  Wake up, husband!” she cried, struggling to be free of his grip.  “Rumpelstiltskin!”

 

The imp sat up, startled, the lamps flaring to life in the room.  “What?!  Where?!”  A fireball appeared in each hand as he raised them defensively.

 

Belle ducked down on the other side of the bed as she pulled his dressing robe off the foot of the bed and slipped her arms into it.  “We’ve overslept!”

 

He fisted his hands, extinguishing the flames, and frowned at her, confused.  “Huh?”

 

“The children are no doubt waiting for us and here we are lying abed.”

 

He fell back against the pillows and rubbed at his eyes, trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep. 

 

“Did I wear slippers in here last night?” she grumbled to herself as she searched the floor around the bed, unable to clearly recall whether she had or not.  “Only my second day as a mother and already I’m failing miserably…”

 

Rumpelstiltskin cocked his head to the side as a puzzled frown marred his brow, as he watched her intently.  “Dearie—“

 

She fell to her hands and knees, scrambling about on the floor just under the edge of the bed.  “They’re probably starving and here I am two hours late serving their breakfast.  I should have been downstairs hours ago instead of idly lounging in bed thinking of how much I enjoyed my husband last night…”

 

His brows shot up into his hairline at her mumbled diatribe, a slow satisfied grin blooming across his lips.  “Dearie—“

 

“I’ll be lucky if I can even find the kitchen in this mausoleum,” she continued, paying no attention to her husband or his softly uttered queries.  “Where the hell are my shoes!?”

 

“Belle!”  He grabbed her hand before she could retreat across the room and through their bathing chamber to her room beyond, pulling her up onto the bed.  He wrapped his arms around her and gripped her chin in his hand, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss.  “Calm down, pet, it’s fine.”

 

“No, no, no,” she cried, tears streaming down her face, her eyes wide and frightened as she stared up at him.  A tremor shook her petite frame and her hands trembled where they twisted in his nightshirt.  “I can’t fail…can’t fail…don’t want to be locked up again!  I promise I’ll do better!”  She pushed against him, trying to free herself from his arms again.

 

 _Oh ho!!! You really know how to pick ‘em, Spinner.  This one’s completely cracked her gourd,_ the Dark One snickered at the back of his mind.  With a growl he pushed the demon away and focused on his little wife.  “Belle,” he whispered softly, cradling her cheeks in his warm hands.  “Belle, it’s alright, dearie.  The children are fine. You haven’t failed them.  Shh,” he soothed.  He pressed light kisses over her brow, her eyes, her nose and over her bottom lip, valiantly trying to ease her terror.

 

She whimpered pitifully and leaned into his touch.  “Don’t lock me away, please.  I promise I’ll do better.  I don’t want to be in the dark.”

 

His ruined teeth ground together violently, the muscle in his jaw ticking away as he wondered what had caused the anxiety coursing through her and robbing her of the ability to function.  She was on the verge of hyperventilating and he couldn’t let her fear cause her harm.  “Belle, nothing is going to hurt you.  I won’t allow it.  No one here is going to lock you away.”

 

Despite his calming reassurances, she continued to get worse rather than better.  With no recourse, he bundled her up into his arms and carried her through the sitting room, the french doors leading out onto the balcony swinging open with a mere thought.  A light snow was falling, the sky dotted with heavy clouds as he set her down, her dainty feet coming to rest atop his so as not to take the full brunt of the cold.  He shivered, but his tolerance for the frigid temperatures was far greater than hers.  Snow was piled up against the covered furniture, the planters with their frozen soil and all along the railing in small drifts.

 

Rumpelstiltskin fought off another shiver and scooped a handful of the slushy mess into his hand, his other arm firm about her waist and smooshed it into her face, rubbing the icy flakes over her cheeks and chin and over her pale throat.  He could only hope the shock of the cold would bring her back to him.  He was rewarded with a sharp indrawn breath as she shuddered, finally feeling the cold…finally feeling something other than blind panic.

 

Her chest heaved with the effort to draw air into her starving lungs.  “Rum…” she whimpered, grasping at him as she tried to press herself closer, seeking his warmth.  “Cold…” It was the only word she could force out past her chattering teeth, but he understood.

 

He carried her back inside and set her down gently on the hearth rug before moving across the room to snatch a warm fleece blanket from the chest at the foot of his bed.  He sat down behind her, his legs curling around hers as he wrapped the blanket securely about them.  She’d pulled her knees up protectively against her chest and he rested his hands over hers, completely enveloping her in his embrace.

 

Belle leaned her head back against his shoulder and pressed her face into his neck, the tremors seeming to ease somewhat the longer he held her.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“Hush, pet,” he crooned softly, his lips ghosting over her brow.  “It’s no matter.  Bae and Morraine are more resilient than you know.”  He sighed, taking great pains to keep his voice low and soothing to help her through her distress.  “Sometimes I must be gone longer than I would wish.  The castle is enchanted for a reason…to see to their needs.  Food is provided by the pantry, fresh water for their baths, activities throughout to keep their minds busy so they keep away from mischief.  I’m sure they’ve already had breakfast and are in the library seeing to their lessons.”

 

“I thought I’d failed them.”  She relaxed a bit more as she sank back against his chest.  “I want to be a good mother to them, a good wife to you, but I don’t know h-how,” she murmured, her voice breaking on a sob.

 

“Dearie, you’ve only been with us two days.  In those two days, you’ve had ogres knocking on the castle gates, forcing you to summon me.  You entered into a deal to become my wife, had to face down your odious father when he didn’t agree with your choice.  He should have been thanking you,” he growled, his voice laced with a healthy dose of disgust for the sovereign of Avonlea.  “You’ve had to face becoming a mother to two of the most mischievous imps in the realm—“

 

“Stop it,” she scolded, squeezing his forearms where they circled about her knees.  “The children are wonderful.”

 

“So you say now.  Give it time,” he chuckled.  “You’ve also had to face your fear of the unknown…not to mention deal with my beastly attentions.” 

 

She could feel his warmth radiating against her cool skin and she sighed contentedly as he once again kissed her brow.  “You’re not so beastly as you’d like to think, husband.”

 

“What I’m trying to say is that perhaps it was just a bit more than you could handle.”  He tilted her chin up so he could nip gently at her lips, more than a little pleased when she responded eagerly.  He brushed the hair away from her face, his thumb stroking against her cheekbone as his smile fell away to be replaced by concern.  “What happened to you, pet?  Why are you so afraid of failure?”

 

Belle quoted her father from memory, her eyes distant as if she could almost see him standing before her.  “ _A future sovereign of the kingdom does not fail, Belle.  It is your duty to the people to project strength.  The people will not put their faith in a weak queen...”_

 

“You’re not weak, dearie,” he whispered as he dropped a kiss to her crown.  “You sacrificed yourself for that paltry kingdom by the sea.  I doubt your father would have done the same.”

 

“He…ah…he has never been able to tolerate failure…especially mine.  He really wasn’t so bad until my eighth winter, after my mother died.  The responsibility of raising me then fell to him and he was more likely to train me to be a knight than a princess,” she replied with a bitter laugh.  “I can ride, but not well enough to draw my bow or wield a sword in the saddle.  I can entertain at a state dinner, yet am excluded from talk of politics.  I’m an abysmal seamstress…you should see my embroidery.  It’s simply ghastly.”  Her voice trailed away for a moment as she sniffled. “I don’t like the tower, Rumpel.”

 

“Why, pet?  Tell me why you don’t like the tower.”  He twirled a lock of her hair around his long fingers, already feeling the pull of his spinning wheel to help him forget whatever it was she was going to confide in him.

 

She lowered her eyes, staring blankly into the flames.  “Whenever he is displeased with me, he sends me to the tower.  There are no windows and I’m not allowed to have a candle.  I’m simply required to remain there and _think_ of my mistakes and how not to repeat them.  It’s never for long, usually just a day, but I don’t like the dark, Rum.” Her tone dropped to barely more than a whisper.  “I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.”

 

“You won’t, pet,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.  He had to battle against his own darkness that rose within him.  The Dark One whispered furiously in his ear, even his blackened soul screaming for vengeance against the injustice done to the little princess.  “Even when you sleep, you’ll have the light of the fire.”

 

“And you,” she breathed, finally warm as she basked in the security of his embrace.  “I’ll have you to protect me.”

 

“As long as you’ll have me.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Rumpelstiltskin pulled his boots on and rose to his feet to select a black brocade waistcoat from the wardrobe to wear over the midnight blue silk shirt he’d already tucked into his leather trousers.  He knocked on the door to the bathing chamber as he fastened the gold clasps.  “Are you ready to go down yet, pet?  I’m feeling rather peckish.”

 

It had taken him another hour and a half to soothe her after her anxiety attack and peckish in no way described his appetite.  He was bloody well famished, so he knew she must be as well. 

 

She opened the door, chewing nervously at her lower lip, her hair brush gripped tightly in her hand.  “I don’t know what to do with my hair,” she grumbled in irritation.  “I’ve always had my ladies to help with such things and…I seem to be completely inept.”

 

His eyes trailed over the pale ivory flesh of her throat, her exposed collarbone just begging for his lips, and further to the soft swell of her breasts over the plunging décolletage of her bodice.  Oh yes, that lovely rose gown was definitely worth the gold he’d paid for it.  “You look lovely, pet,” he hummed softly as his tongue snaked out to wet his lips.

 

Belle blushed prettily.  “Maybe I should cut it?”

 

“Cut what?” he murmured distractedly as he reached for her.

 

“My hair.  Should I cut it to make it more manageable?” she queried, the butterflies returning to her belly as she stepped into his embrace.

 

He froze.  “No!” he sputtered.  “You will _not_ cut your hair.”  He took the brush from her hand and shooed her back into the bathroom, urging her to sit down on the padded bench in front of the mirror.  He caught her gaze in the reflective glass and prayed she couldn’t see the slight blush rising beneath his green-gold skin.  “You just need to try for a simpler style than what you’re accustomed to,”

 

Belle watched his actions with a keen eye, trying to memorize what he was doing so she could duplicate it the next day.  He drew the brush slowly through the strands and she hummed softly at the pleasant feeling.  Though she wasn’t sure whether it was the bristles of the brush or her husband’s long fingers that brought her more delight.  She had to force her eyes to remain open when the languor spreading through her made them want to slam shut. 

 

“Pay attention, pet,” he drawled lazily, his eyes hooded as he watched her in the mirror.  She wasn’t the only one to feel the magic weaving about them.  When he had her full attention, he pulled the hair away from her temples and gathered it at her crown, a wisp of crimson smoke swathing his hand as he conjured a lovely golden comb with tiny pink gemstones, securing it in place.  The rest of her hair was left to tumble down her back in soft waves.

 

She had to clear her throat to mask the fact that she was a bit breathless when he finished and reverently stroked his hand over her gleaming curls.  “Th-That should be simple enough to duplicate even for me,” she said breathily.

 

He brushed a kiss to her palm as he tugged her to her feet and tucked it into the crook of his arm, leading her out of their chamber and into the corridor beyond.  “There’s no need for fancy coiffures here, pet.  You don’t have to worry about visiting royals and dignitaries which you have to impress.  I think you’re lovely without all the fancy trappings,” he said offhandedly, ducking his head.  “I want you to be comfortable, to take advantage of an easier life than what you’re used to.”

 

Belle studied the route as he led her to the Great Hall and the kitchens beyond, trying to take in certain tapestries or a remarkable painting or treasure that dotted the halls to help her remember how to get back to their chambers later.  “I was a princess, Rum.  How much easier could my life become?” she queried in a quiet tone.

 

He led her over to the long counter and urged her to sit on one of the stools as he eyed her doubtfully.  “Dearie, somehow I don’t see your former life as being easy or simple.  From what I’ve learned about you thus far, you were practically a prisoner in your own home with a dunderhead for a father who couldn’t see your worth as more than a political tool.”

 

She ducked her head, smiling shyly as she peeked at him from her lashes.  “You don’t see me that way and that’s all that matters, husband.”

 

A smile bloomed on his own lips as he turned away from her and faced the pantry.  With a sigh, he whipped the door open, hoping this time the cantankerous curmudgeon wouldn’t send another pie flying towards his head.  He didn’t want Belle to see and have her afraid to search out a treat for fear of the same treatment.  He couldn’t understand what had happened when he’d enchanted the damn thing, but it simply had a mind of its own and did _not_ like him in the least.  Apparently, it was trying to make a good impression on the new lady of the castle and allowed him to duck inside to retrieve their late breakfast without incident.

 

Rumpelstiltskin laid out an array of choices on the counter.  Honey cured ham, a loaf of bread still warm from someone’s oven, a small wheel of cheese, butter and jam and some soft boiled eggs.  Belle went to the cupboard she’d seen Morraine retrieve plates from last night and brought them over, reaching to serve her husband. 

 

“This looks wonderful.  I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”  She passed him the strawberry jam as he reached for it, feeling a warm tingle of pleasure as their fingers brushed.  “I…ah…shouldn’t we call the children to join us?”

 

 “No, we’ll collect them when we’re done so we can tour the castle together.  For now they’re no doubt holed up in the library seeing to their lessons.  I can’t find a tutor or governess for them,” he said bitterly as he sliced off several pieces of cheese to share with her.  “No one wants to work for the Dark One.  So I try to make lessons for them several days a week.  Morraine is an avid reader and Bae seems to have a great talent for art.”

 

Belle tilted her head to the side, warmed by the openness of his gaze, his willingness to share with her.  “You seem to be a wonderful father, Rumpelstiltskin.  I wish my father had been even half as attentive with me when I was a child.”

 

He concentrated peeling one of the eggs which he then sliced and placed on her plate.  “They’re my life, dearie.”

 

“Why did you want a mother for them when you seem to be doing such a find job of raising them on your own?”

 

He emitted a wry chuckle as he rose from his stool to fill the kettle with water for tea.  “Well, there are just some things a father can’t share with his daughter.  Morraine needs to learn things that I am just at a loss to teach her.  Baelfire is easy, Morraine not so much.”

 

Belle watched him curiously as he pulled a tea service and cups from the cupboard and tea leaves from the pantry.  “Last night Morraine mentioned that she and Bae didn’t share the same mother.  Were you married more than once?”

 

He grabbed the kettle and poured it over the leaves in the tea pot to give it time to steep.  “No, I was only married once, to Baelfire’s mother.  Morraine and her parents lived four houses down for us in the village we used to reside in.  She is only a few months older than he is and they became fast friends at an early age.  When famine and disease struck our village during the last ogre war, her parents were some of the first to succumb.  I couldn’t leave her to the orphanage.  That place was an abomination, not much better than a hovel.  The children were neglected, filthy, half starved.  I wouldn’t leave Bae’s dearest friend to suffer that fate.  Instead, I took her in and she’s been my daughter ever since.”  He smiled haltingly at her and set about pouring their tea.  “She’s been very accepting of my curse.  Sometimes more so than Bae.”

 

Her heart softened more towards her husband as she regarded him over the rim of her cup.  “You’re a good man, Rumpelstiltskin.  I know nobles with power and unlimited wealth at their disposal who wouldn’t make the sacrifices you have for your family.”

 

“I just want the best for them,” he said simply. 

 

“What happened to the children in your village…the ones from the orphanage?”

 

He sighed.  “I found homes for them.  There are good people all over the realm who desire children and are unable to have any of their own.  I traded them for a few favors, a trinket or two,” he said softly, staring down at his plate.  “How could I ask for too much in exchange for a child?  They’re the most precious gift anyone could ever hope to receive.”

 

He opted to change the subject, his warm smile returning as he met her curious gaze.  “I was rather impressed with your ideas for the former orphanage yesterday, Belle.  Would you be willing to invest some time in the inner workings of the village?”

 

Belle blinked at him, her eyes widening.  “Really?” she breathed, too stunned to be very articulate.  “You’d want my help?”

 

“You’re my wife, the Lady of the Dark Castle.  You are an extension of me, pet.  It is expected, but I’ll have you know I wouldn’t offer this to you if I weren’t already impressed with your sharp mind.”

 

Her lower lip trembled with elation as she bounded off her stool and into his arms.  “Thank you!  Yes, I want to help.”  She blushed as she ducked her head shyly.  “No one’s ever asked me to do such a thing before.”  She lifted her gaze to meet his and he caught her lips with a soft kiss.

 

“Avonlea is filled with a bunch of old fools if they can’t see how brilliant you are, pet,” he whispered against her lips.  He brushed a stray curl behind her ear and caressed the smooth skin of her cheek.  “I knew we would get on well together.”

 

“I promise I’ll try my best not to disappoint you.”

 

A muffled feminine giggle sounded near the kitchen door and the imp huffed a small airy laugh as his gaze wandered in search of his wee ones.  “Come on out, scamps.”

 

Baelfire shuffled forward and hugged Belle warmly as she stepped away from his father, a look of profound relief on his young face.  “I was so worried about you.”

 

“Why were you worried about Belle?” Rumpelstiltskin asked as he pulled Morraine into a one armed hug of greeting.

 

“You were upset last night, papa,” Morraine explained with a roll of her eyes, “and he was afraid you’d turn her into a snail.”

 

He cast a stern look at his son.  “I would never do that to my wife, Bae.  I…ah…”  He tried to mask the hurt in his eyes, but Belle saw it nevertheless. “I’m going to go spin for a while.”

 

The sorcerer poofed out of the room before his wife or daughter could stop him.  Belle laid a hand on Morraine’s arm as the girl opened her mouth to upbraid her brother.  “Baelfire, you hurt Rumpelstiltskin’s feelings.  I know I’m new to this, to being a mother, but I cannot condone your behavior.  I don’t know why you’re so afraid he’s going to do something rash, but he’s still your papa and you need to ease up on him.  He’s doing the best he can to raise you into fine young adults and I think he’d doing an admirable job.  Don’t make him feel worse about himself than I sense he already does.”

 

Baelfire hung his head in shame as his sister smirked smugly in his direction.  “I’m sorry, Belle.  I didn’t mean it, but I know how he gets sometimes when the curse is too much to deal with.  I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

 

Belle wrapped her arms about his shoulders and welcomed him into her embrace.  “I know you didn’t, but he deserves your respect.  Now,” she said, sitting them down at the counter and going to the pantry to find them a snack, “have you finished your lessons?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” they chimed.

 

“What would you like to eat?  I think we have time for a bite before your papa takes us on a tour of the castle.” 

 

“I think there might be a bit of shepherd’s pie leftover from last night, Belle.  We can finish that off for lunch,” Morraine said quietly, her tone subdued.

 

Belle found a covered dish on the shelf and tucked it into the crook of her arm as she waited for Baelfire to answer her question.  “Bae, what would you like?  Bae?”  He was gone when she left the pantry to see what was keeping him.  “Where’s your brother?”

 

Morraine bit her lip and stared at the door.  “I think he went to talk to papa.  He looked rather sad when he left.”

 

Belle set the dish on the counter and rubbed soothingly at Morraine’s shoulder.  “He needs to talk to his father instead of assuming the worst.  I know he’s worried, but he shouldn’t be where I’m concerned.  Rum has been nothing but good to me since I’ve arrived…even in his anger.”

 

“Was it bad?  What did he do to you?” Morraine asked, her wide sable eyes darkening with concern.

 

Belle looked down at her stepdaughter and smiled softly.  “He yelled, he blustered, he waved his hands…y’know typical man blowing off steam.”

 

Morraine’s mouth fell open with a burst of laughter.  “And yet the roof didn’t fall in on us!  I think you’re a good influence on him, Belle.”

 

“He’s blown the roof off with his anger?” Belle asked in alarm, a little hysterical giggle forcing its way past her lips.

 

Morraine waved a dismissive hand.  “Only once, and it was just a small section in the tower.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Bae needs to apologize to his papa ASAP!!! So what did you think? I know it wasn’t my best chapter in this story, but there were some issues that I really wanted to address concerning Belle’s life in Avonlea and what a douchebag Maurice is. And don’t for one moment think Rum is going to let that slide :D Next chapter – as if this story isn’t fluffy enough already – there will be a visit to the greenhouse and the library. Did I forget to mention the next one is my favorite so far? Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! Love and hugs!


	10. Those Meddling Kids

Baelfire hovered near the door that led from the kitchen corridor, watching his father lose himself in his spinning.  He felt bad about thinking the worst of Rumpelstiltskin, especially after Belle had defended him so staunchly.  He didn’t mean to, really, he tried to reason with himself, but the Dark One made his father do things that he wouldn’t ordinarily do and it worried him.  He didn’t want his papa to slip so far into the darkness that he’d never come back into the light again.

 

He really liked Belle.  Already she seemed to be allowing his father to get close to her.  She _was_ his wife after all.  He held all the hope in the world in his heart that she was indeed Rumpelstiltskin’s true love.  Morraine had tried to tell him it would take time for their parents to fall in love, but he was impatient.  There was no reason why he and his sister couldn’t help them further down the road to happiness – and curse breaking! – if he had his way.  But for now, he needed to apologize to his father.  He shouldn’t have been so careless with his less than tactful tongue.

 

He inched his way into the room, his guilt weighing him down and making him drag his feet.  “Papa?” he called softly, coming to stand next to his father’s antique spinning wheel.

 

Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulders drooped, expecting more of his son’s harsh criticisms, but nevertheless turned to face him. “Yes, Bae?”

 

Baelfire raised his gaze up from his feet, his small hands fidgeting, wondering how he was going to fix the mess he’d made.  He decided to rely on what had always worked in the past.  He threw his arms around the imp’s neck and hugged him tightly.  “I’m so sorry, papa.  I didn’t mean to imply you’d hurt Belle.  It’s just—“

 

Rumpelstiltskin smiled against his son’s soft hair and embraced him warmly, simply happy that the boy didn’t think as badly of him as he should.  It had hurt to hear those words come out of Baelfire’s mouth, most certainly, but he couldn’t really blame him.  When he’d first taken on the curse, he’d had entire days go by where he couldn’t remember anything he’d done.  There were other times where he had to put forth a constant effort to remain in control of his body and the newfound magic he now possessed.  He could understand his child’s fear, but he was better now.

 

Baelfire sat down on the bench next to him, his wide sable eyes troubled.  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, papa.  W-Will you forgive me?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin curled his arm around his son’s shoulders and pulled him against his side.  “Of course.  You’re my son and I love you, Bae.  No matter what has happened, you can always come to me.”  He sighed wearily and tried to muster up a smile.  “And I promise, I won’t hurt your new mother.”

 

“You were angry last night, though.  It made me worry,” Baelfire confessed.

 

“Belle and I had a rather lengthy discussion…very loudly,” he admitted ruefully.  He cast a furtive glance in his son’s direction.  “Bae, she found the dagger.  I had left it out on my worktable and she picked it up—“

 

Baelfire’s eyes widened in horror.  “But that means she can control you!  How could you let her even know about that thing!?  Does she still have it?  Is that why—“

 

“Calm down, son,” he said softly, wincing at the grip Baelfire had on his forearm, his little nails digging into his skin.  “She gave it back.  Said she didn’t want it, that she didn’t want to control me.”

 

“Why?” the boy asked, his face screwing up with confusion.  “You said the dagger’s lure for the wielder is nearly as powerful as the compulsion it puts on you.”  Or perhaps it was because Belle really was Rumpelstiltskin’s true love and it didn’t work on her like it did everyone else, he mused.

 

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head, equally bewildered.  “From what I have learned from the memories of previous Dark Ones which I inherited with the curse, it is supposed to be irresistible to the wielder.  It is supposed to make it nearly impossible to think of anything but your own wishes and desires.  With the dagger, anyone could have unlimited power, but Belle happily…Gave. It. Back.”

 

“Did she say why?”

 

The imp nodded, a small smile curling his thin lips.  “She said she wants to know me, that I’m her husband, not her puppet.”

 

“She’s special, papa.  You chose well when you decided only she would do.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin snorted with no small measure of self-deprecation.  “She’s the _only_ one who would have me.  I gave her no choice, really.  She only did it to save her people.”

 

Baelfire studied his father through narrowed eyes.  “Would you have really made her marry you in order to save her, or would you have chosen another price for the magic?”

 

“I would have banished them regardless.  They are vile evil creatures and need to be swept from the realm into the very lowest depths of Tartarus.  After meeting Belle, I couldn’t have in good conscious let her perish,” he said, staring down sadly at the thread in his free hand.

 

“Really?” a soft voice filled with awe asked from the doorway as Belle stepped closer, her cerulean eyes warm and unwavering as they settled on her husband.  “You would have saved me had I rejected you?”

 

He dropped the thread and stumbled clumsily to his feet, his eyes wide, a hint of panic clearly evident in their depths.  “Um…well,” he stammered, the fingers of his right hand brushing nervously against his thumb. 

 

She made her way over to him and took his fidgeting hand in hers, smiling gently up at him, a rosy blush settling in the apples of her cheeks.  “I’m glad I chose you, Rum, but it’s nice to know you wouldn’t have let me perish had I decided not to accept your offer.”

 

His mouth gaped open, words deserting him as he stared down into her beautiful eyes.  She was too good to be true, his little wife.  He wondered when the other shoe would drop, when he would do something horrible and she’d run screaming right out the castle gates, leaving him behind.  Everyone eventually left him, and he had very little hope that she would be any different.  Hope was just not his friend.

 

Morraine nudged her brother in the ribs and grinned.  Their father looked like he was seconds away from melting into a puddle of goo and Baelfire rolled his eyes.  “I thought we were supposed to take her on a tour of the castle today,” he said in a loud whisper.

 

“Bae, you have the subtlety of a rampaging horde,” Morraine drawled, shaking her head.

 

Belle giggled and linked her arm through her husband’s.  “I think that is a wonderful idea.  Do you have time today, Rumpel?” she asked, not wanting him to have to leave on business, but rather spend the day with her and the children.

 

“I…uh…” he mumbled, glancing down into her hopeful gaze.  “I don’t have anything too pressing today.”  Though he wasn’t sure how he was going to get through an entire afternoon in the company of his wife without kissing her senseless.  He couldn’t of course, not with his little ones tagging along.  He sighed resignedly and flourished his elegant hand, motioning towards the double doors that would lead out into the main corridor of the castle.  “Shall we?”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

“It’s going to take me a year to learn my way around the castle,” Belle said glumly as she was led through the solarium and into a long glass lined tunnel of sorts, snow piled high on the other side of the windows.

 

Rumpelstiltskin snorted.  “Belle, dearie, you lived in a palace not much larger than the Dark Castle.  I doubt it will take you long to find your bearings.”

 

Belle glanced back at him and nodded dutifully.  “Perhaps.  It helps that the castle will help me find my way if I manage to get lost.”

 

Morraine opened a new door and led her stepmother into the warmth and comfort of the greenhouse.  “You’ll be fine, Belle.  We won’t allow you to get lost.”  She tugged on Belle’s hand, urging her forward.  She winked over her shoulder at her father who cast her a blank stare, his stomach already churning with suspicion as to what his little imps might be conspiring.  “This is papa’s pride and joy…well, other than his spinning wheel, that is.  He spends a good deal of time in here playing in the dirt.”

 

“Morraine!” he scolded.  “I do not _play_ in the dirt.  I am not a child.”

 

Belle turned her head away from the trio as they argued to hide the amused smile toying with her lips.  Morraine slipped away from her father and brother and led Belle further in the virtual jungle of plant life surrounding them.  “There’s nearly every kind of fruit or vegetable you can imagine in here, Belle.  It was one of the first modifications papa made when we moved here four months ago.  He used magic to transplant everything here from our gardens at home – not that there was much, mind you - but the majority is from different places he visits on his deals.  The greenhouse covers an entire acre at the rear of the castle and is sectioned off into a small orchard of fruit trees, another with papa’s medicinals – mostly things he uses for his potions, which we aren’t allowed to touch – another with vegetables and of course there are his flowers.”

 

“My husband grows flowers?” she asked in surprise.  She turned her questioning gaze to him, but he’d disappeared.  She spun in a circle, trying to see where he and Baelfire might have gone, but she couldn’t locate him in the vast house of green tinted glass.  “Where did he go?”

 

Morraine smirked secretly and took Belle’s hand to lead her over to the rows of strawberries ahead of them.  Baelfire, in the meantime, dragged his father off to the flowers and disappeared amongst a row of white carnations and delicate purple heather.  Rumpelstiltskin eyed the little fury with alarm as he quickly began putting together a hasty bouquet.

 

“Whatever are you doing, son?” he queried, arching a brow at the boy.

 

“Here, take these,” Baelfire whispered, shoving them into his father’s hands.  “Give them to Belle.”

 

“I beg your pardon?  Why would—“

 

Baelfire’s mouth dropped open, but he snapped it closed and shook off his surprise as he rolled his eyes.  “Papa, did you even court mama?”

 

“Of course I did,” the imp grumbled.

 

“Didn’t you ever bring her flowers?” he asked in exasperation.  “It’s a wonder I was ever born, I tell you,” he mumbled under his breath.  He gave his father a pointed look.  “The heather symbolizes your _admiration_ for Belle and the white carnations represent your _pure love_ for her.”  He shooed Rumpelstiltskin off towards the direction from which they’d come.  “Go and give them to her.  Woo her, papa.”

 

“Baelfire!”  He shook the bouquet in his son’s face, lowering his voice.  “I’m perfectly capable of _wooing_ my wife if I so desire, without any help from you and your sister.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Quite.”

 

“Then go give her the flowers as a sign of your affection.  If Belle is as well read as you’ve led us to believe, she’ll know what the flowers mean.  Or are you afraid she’ll reject you?” He asked, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.

 

“No!”

 

“Shhhhh!!!” Baelfire hissed, waving his hands frantically.  “She’ll hear us!”

 

“No, I’m not afraid she’ll reject me,” the sorcerer insisted, though he lowered his voice as instructed.  No sense borrowing trouble.  “But why am I trying to woo my own wife?”

 

Baelfire blinked up at him as if he’d gone daft.  “Papa, sometimes I wonder about you.  True, she’s your wife, but you need to win her heart.”

 

“Here we go with the true love thing again,” Rumpelstiltskin grumbled.  “Bae, she’s not going to fall in love with me.  I mean…” he waved a hand wildly before himself, “…look at me.”  He glared down at the flowers clasped tightly in his hands, murmuring softly, “I didn’t bring her here to fall in love with me.  I needed a mother for you and Morraine.”

 

“That may have been your initial reason, but I think she makes you realize how lonely you’ve been.  Don’t try to deny it, papa,” the boy said, resting his hands on his father’s shoulders when he began to protest.  “It’s all well and good that you have me and ‘Raine, but you need adult companionship, someone you can love and have love you in return.  We won’t always be here.  One day we’re going to grow up and have families of our own.  Now you have Belle and she _will_ love you if you give her half a chance.”

 

“You just want her to break my curse.”

 

“No, papa, I want you to be happy.  She’s your wife, for better or worse.  It doesn’t matter if she can break the curse – though I still have hope – anymore.  After what you told me of her reaction to the dagger, I think she’s your best hope of finding happiness.”

 

The sorcerer’s brow wrinkled as he cast his son a hopeful look.  “You really think this will work – wooing her, I mean?”

 

“Yes!  Now get in there and do it!” he said with a dazzling smile.  “You can charm the pants – literally – off of anyone in the realm.  Remember that little ditz who traded her cloak?  I’m sure you can charm Belle into giving up her heart to you.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin cast him a dubious look and squared his shoulders with determination that lasted all of five seconds.  He was already beginning to doubt himself as he headed off down the row and made a left at a peach tree, grabbing one of the delectably ripe fruits for good measure.  He knew for a fact that she loved the sweetness it offered.  He found her in the strawberry patch with Morraine, and placing some of the plump red berries into a small basket his daughter had fetched from one of his work tables.  He fiddled with the peach in his hand and slipped the one bearing the bouquet behind his back.

 

“Morraine, I think Baelfire would appreciate your assistance gathering some fresh roses for the foyer,” he said, quickly finding an excuse to have her leave him alone with his wife for a few moments.  His daughter grinned slyly at him as she skipped down the row.  “And be careful of the thorns.  There are shears on the worktable.”

 

“Yes, papa,” she practically sang as she grabbed the shears and disappeared from sight.

 

Belle moved slowly down the row, careful to keep her skirts from brushing against the plants.  She had a welcoming smile on her lips for him as she joined him next to a bench beneath the plum tree where he stood.  She set the basket down on the bench and waited patiently for him to speak, noting the agitation which deepened the lines around his eyes.

 

“Are you enjoying the greenhouse, pet?” he asked for lack of something to say.

 

“I am, very much.”

 

“Sit?”  He grimaced, wondering when he had become the bumbling idiot standing before her.  She was his wife, for the sake of the gods!  She was going to think he’d taken leave of his senses if he couldn’t articulate a simple sentence.  “I mean…um…would you care to sit?”  There.  That was better.

 

Belle nodded her acquiescence and sat on the bench, taking a moment to smooth her skirts.  The basket of strawberries rested between them as he joined her, perching stiffly on the edge as if he were going to flee at any moment.  “Is something wrong, Rumpel?  You seem a bit out of sorts.”

 

“No!” He bit his tongue, inwardly cursing his lack of charm and gentility.  He had been a care-worn peasant a mere year ago.  What made him think he could court a princess, despite what his children thought?  “No, pet, everything is fine.  I…ah…” he swallowed around the nervous lump in his throat and took a deep breath.  “I have something for you.”

 

“A gift?” she asked teasingly.  “Or a kiss?”  She blushed prettily as she peeked up at him from beneath her lashes.

 

His lips parted on a barely audible gasp, his gaze instantly dropping to her mouth.  Was she really asking him to kiss her?  He gave himself a mental shake, determined to follow through with this wooing business Baelfire had encouraged him to undertake.  “A gift.”  Was that disappointment in her eyes?  Perhaps she’d been honest last night when she’d told him she enjoyed his kisses.  Well, he couldn’t have her feeling disappointed, now could he?  “Then perhaps if you’re pleased…a kiss?”

 

Her smile returned as she looked at him expectantly.  He drew the bouquet from behind his back and presented it to her, more than pleased by the delight evidenced on her lovely features.  “Oh, Rum, these are absolutely beautiful,” she purred, running her fingertips over the soft petals of the carnations.  She cast him a coy smile as she held them to her nose to inhale their sweet scent.  “And you know what they mean?”

 

“I do,” he said softly, easily drawn under her spell.  “Would you like me to tell you, pet?”

 

Belle moved the basket from between them, setting it on the ground so she could scoot closer to her husband.  “I know what they signify, but I would still love to hear you tell me.”

 

He arched a brow at her as one corner of his mouth lifted in a half moon grin.  “The heather represents my admiration for you.”

 

Her hand rose to brush the hair away from his eyes, her fingertips trailing along the side of his face.  “You admire me?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.  No one had ever claimed to admire her before.  Her title and position surely, but never her true self.

 

“I do, little wife.  I admire your beauty, your brilliant little mind and the light you seem to spread throughout my castle,” he murmured, reveling in her touch.  Unshed tears sparkled in her eyes as her hand slipped beneath his hair to the nape of his neck, gently pulling him forward to claim her kiss.

 

“And the carnations?” she asked, placing soft little butterfly kisses along his lower lip.

 

“Carnations?” he asked dazedly, quickly losing his grip on the coherent part of his brain that enabled speech.  _Gods, she tastes good!_ The Dark One peered out of his cage within the Spinner’s mind and rolled his eyes.

 

“Yes, husband, the carnations,” Belle prompted, chuckling softly as she drew away slightly.

 

His arm snaked about her waist to keep her from retreating too far.  His chest rumbled with pleasure as her fingers dug into the tense knot at the top of his spine.  “Ah, yes, the carnations.  They are a symbol of the pure love I wish to share with you one day.”

 

Belle’s blush deepened as she stared up into his warm amber eyes.  “I want that too.”

 

He gave her one more light kiss before he drew her attention to the fruit in his hand.  He knew he’d chosen wisely when her face lit up with pleasure.  He held the peach in the palm of his left hand and waggled his eyebrows at her playfully, waving his right over the fruit.  It was instantly enveloped in a swirl of violet mist.  When the mist cleared, a fine china plate rested in his palm, the fruit lying in wedges and the pit removed.  He lifted a piece to her lips, his gaze flitting between her lips and her eyes, silently seeking approval.  She eagerly accepted his offering, and he groaned softly as her lips closed over the peach.

 

“It’s so sweet,” she moaned, her eyes closing as she savored the fruit.  “I’ve never tasted any better and I’ve sampled them from different parts of the world.”

 

He fed her another piece, his body tightening as desire surged through him, his heart racing with need.  She’d eaten four of the six slices before his restraint broke.  “Might I have a taste, pet?” he queried, his eyes darkening, the pupils blown wide.

 

She nodded, reaching for another piece to share with him, but the plate vanished and her hand slid over his chest as he pulled her onto his lap.  His hand delved into her hair, cradling the back of her head to hold her in place as his lips found hers.  He ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of her lips and they parted on a gasp, opening to allow him access to the sweetness within.  He’d never eat another peach without thinking of his precious little wife, he thought with delight.  She responded eagerly, drawing on her experiences from the previous evening to kiss him back with fervor.

 

Baelfire had to clear his throat three times to gain their attention.  Rumpelstiltskin broke the kiss and rested his brow against Belle’s.  “Yes, Bae, what is it?”

 

“We’re done with the roses, and were wondering if perhaps you and Belle could join us in the library after we wash up?” the boy asked, blushing furiously and trying desperately to keep the snicker out of his voice.

 

Belle rose from her husband’s lap and rested her bouquet in the basket with the strawberries.  Morraine rushed forward to take it from her.  “I’ll take that for you, Belle.  Shall I put them in a vase for your room?” she asked, grinning at her father over her shoulder.

 

“That would be lovely, Morraine. Thank you.”

 

“Ok, we’ll see you in a bit, then,” Morraine said, tugging on her brother’s sleeve to urge him towards the door.

 

When they were a safe distance away, they burst out into a fit of giggles.  “I told you it would work,” Baelfire whispered ecstatically.

 

“Of course it worked…it was _my_ idea after all,” she sniffed imperiously.  “Did you see their faces?  He’s completely besotted with her!”

 

He nodded.  “I know, right?  She seemed to be enjoying herself as well,” he snickered.  “Now for the next part of our plan.”  He rubbed his hands in anticipation and hurried from the room to prepare.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

The sorcerer drew his wife to a stop outside the ornate double doors leading into the library, clasping her hands in his as he brushed the callused pads of his thumbs over her smooth skin.  “Have you enjoyed the tour of your new home so far, pet?” he asked, his brows rising in question.

 

Belle nodded, though the effulgent smile – which seemed to be a permanent fixture on her beautiful face – was answer enough.  “I have, very much, Rumpel,” she answered honestly.  She tilted her head to the side and regarded him studiously for a moment.  “I have spent my life surrounded by others, but I can’t remember ever having had such a wonderful time as I’ve had today – and yesterday – with you and the children.”

 

Pride swelled his chest as he pressed a kiss to her brow.  “I’m glad, pet.  I want you to be happy here with us.  Now close your eyes.”

 

“Why?” she asked, though she did so without hesitation, trusting him implicitly.

 

He grinned widely and waved his clawed fingers before her face.  It pleased him that she was so willing to put her faith and trust in him.  What if he were of less than impeccable moral character?  Well, he was when the Dark One wasn’t trying to cause mischief.  Perhaps it _was_ possible to win over the little princess.  He reached behind him for the door handles and swung them wide before taking her hands and leading her forward.

 

“I’ve saved the best for last, since I know how much you enjoy books, dearie,” he murmured in an impassioned whisper.  She was practically bouncing with boundless excitement and he knew he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of her surprise a moment longer.  “Alright, you may open them.”

 

He released her and stepped back as her eyes fluttered open.  Her lips parted on a gasp and she raised her hands to cover her mouth as her gaze swept over the room he’d painstakingly created for his beloved children.  It was immense, easily the largest room in the castle.  “When we moved in, this room wasn’t quite as big.  I may have enlarged it just a bit.  It was moldy and crumbling,” he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.  “Poor Morraine took one look at it and promptly burst into tears.”

 

“It’s incredible,” she breathed, moving over to the nearest bookshelf to peruse the titles.  “Surely she must be pleased with your improvements.”

 

He nodded, trailing after her as she explored.  “She and Bae helped to design it as they liked.  They spend the majority of their time here.  Do you like it, pet?” he asked softly, reaching out to cup her chin in his green-gold hand, his thumb caressing the curve of her jaw.

 

Belle allowed him to pull her closer and press a chaste kiss to her lips.  Her hands slid up his chest to wrap her arms about his neck, unwilling to let him go in her happiness.  “I love it, Rum.  Thank you for sharing this with me.”

 

The imp held her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing in her scent, the fragrance of roses and lilacs enveloping his senses and wreathing him in a haze of contentment.  Before he could let himself get carried away, he pulled her along behind him to tour the vast room.  It was the only room in the castle filled with natural light, the heavy rose colored drapes parted over the tall windows and held securely with golden cords.  The hearth blazed cheerily, a small sitting area with a plush settee and several overstuffed armchairs scattered before it.  Thick Agrabahan rugs covered the hard wood floor, decorative lamps dotted the walls and several tables and shelves rose floor to ceiling overflowing with more books than anyone could ever read in a lifetime.  It was built for learning, for comfort and for family…a family she was beginning to cherish with all of her heart.

 

He followed her slowly through the stacks, content to watch her explore.  Her eyes widened, however, when she came upon the first of the children’s little ‘nooks’.  “What is this?  It looks like something out of a medieval castle.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled.  The little nook against the wall between two windows boasted a throne-like gilded chair, a faux stone backdrop, and a shield and crossed swords.  “This, pet, is Bae’s favorite spot for reading.  If you’ll notice, it’s in the adventure section.  He favors stories of knights and dragons and swordfights.  His reading area should reflect his preferences so he can feel more a part of the story.”

 

To Belle’s delight there were many of these little reading ‘nooks’ spread throughout the room.  There was one dedicated to something Rumpelstiltskin described as westerns – which clearly had been brought from another realm as they had nothing like what was described in the pages here in their land – another depicting a nautical theme, one that could have been found on Mount Olympus and another paying tribute to the all-father’s sacred Valhallah.   

 

“There are also histories and biographies and a section on magic.  Though I will caution you to stay away from those.  They’re in the restricted section and warded against the children’s – and curious little princess’s – twitchy fingers,” he teased.

 

She laughed softly, the warm rich tones of her voice weaving about him, and twined her fingers with his, pressing close to his side.  “I think this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.  I promise I won’t try to go into the restricted section unless you accompany me.  Deal?”

 

He looked down at her, amusement sparkling in the depths of his amber eyes.  “Oh ho!  A deal you say?”

 

She nodded, biting her lip in that endearing little habit of hers.  “I don’t mind making a deal with you to bring mutual satisfaction to us both.”  Her color rose as she realized what she’d said.  “I…ah…I mean—“

 

The imp grinned wickedly, a manic gleam of avarice entering his eyes as he backed her into the stacks behind her and invaded her personal space, his face mere inches from hers.  It was a move meant to frighten and intimidate, but Belle was onto his game and merely smiled sweetly.  He’d tried the same move on her when they’d made their deal in Avonlea and though she’d been nervous – who wouldn’t be, dealing with the Dark One? – she’d never been truly afraid.  Now that she was coming to know him better as her husband, the move aroused more than intimidated.

 

One blackened claw trailed over the smooth curve of her jaw to tilt her face up to his.  “It’s a dangerous business making a deal with the Dark One, pet.  Are you so certain you’ll come away unscathed?”

 

“I have every faith that my _husband_ would never harm me in any way.”  At least she was holding on to that idea with both hands.  He’d shown her nothing but kindness, but she wasn’t so naïve as to disregard the darkness that clung to his soul.  Her fingers toyed with the ends of his curly hair and her grin widened as she watched his eyes darken with desire as they had just last night.  Innocent she may be, but slowly she was coming to recognize the signs.  “The questions is, do I have anything the Dark One wants?”

 

He shivered, his body pressing into her curves as his arms caged her against the bookshelf.  His lips ghosted feather light over hers, his breath teasing and warm against her flesh.  “I think you have many things the Dark One wants,” he purred.

 

“Then a deal can always be struck,” she whispered, her heart accelerating as fire began to course through her veins.  “What is it you want, husband?” she cooed silkily.

 

He thought for a moment, various scenarios dancing through his mind at an alarming rate…most of them involving a bed and a naked, willing Belle.  “I will tell you tonight when we’re…ah… _alone_.  Do those terms meet with your approval, little wife?”

 

Her arms wrapped about his neck as his lips trailed soft kisses along her jaw to her ear where he nipped gently, sending a spark of electricity shooting through her core.  A low moan escaped her parted lips as her breath quickened, the pleasure of him pressed so intimately to her and the heat of his mouth on her flesh, robbing her of speech.  “Y-Yes,” she finally managed.

 

“Then by all means,” he murmured, suckling gently at the delectable patch of skin beneath her ear.  “Let us visit the restricted section to appease my little wife’s curiosity.” 

 

He blanched as he pulled her from the stacks only to run directly into the children.  They were grinning like two loons upon seeing their stepmother’s flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips.  Morraine raised a brow in his direction and stepped forward with her handkerchief to swipe at her father’s mouth.

 

“That really is a becoming shade on you, papa,” she snarked, showing him the once pristine cloth now smeared with Belle’s light pink lipstick.

 

Rumpelstiltskin blushed slightly under his scales and rolled his eyes.  “Yes…well…”

 

Belle giggled.  “Baelfire, what have you there?” she asked indicating the large basket he held before him.

 

“Dinner,” he said happily.  “We thought we could have a picnic in the harem and then have papa read to us.”

 

“Harem?!” she cried, sending her husband a startled look.

 

He waved an errant hand towards the children.  “It’s what they call Morraine’s reading nook on the top floor.  It’s fashioned after her favorite book of Agrabahan tales,” he reassured her.  “We sometimes picnic up there when the cold keeps us indoors.”

 

The children giggled.  “Don’t worry, Belle.  You’re the only woman to have captured papa’s fancy.”

 

The mage felt his face heat significantly.  “Run along, you imps,” he commanded, shooing them towards the stairs that led to the upper loft.  “I promised Belle I would show her the restricted section and then we’ll join you.”

 

“Oooooh, papa, can we come too?  You never allow us in there!” Morraine pleaded, her scholarly mind voracious to have a peek inside.

 

“No,” her father said firmly.  “You are not allowed access to that section until you’re older.  I don’t want you exposed to some of the things I keep in there.  It’s restricted for a reason.”

 

Baelfire leaned over close to her ear, though his words could clearly be understood by his parents.  “He just wants to kiss her again.”

 

Belle’s face went up in flames and Rumpelstiltskin gaped at his son. Morraine giggled and tugged on his sleeve, propelling him towards the stairs to set up their picnic.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters so far. I’m surprised the fluff didn't send me into a diabetic coma. For those who don’t know already, I had an accident (my son accidentally slammed my hand in the car door) and I’m having to type with one hand. Ugh!! I already have chapter 11 completed, so there WILL be an update next week. Not so sure right now about Another Chance or Tea Cakes & Secrets, however. I will endeavor to get them done in time, so bear with me, dearies (o: Next week: Belle gets to tour the restricted section and they have their picnic in the harem. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I’d love to hear what you all think. Thanks so much for reading <3


	11. Called Away

Rumpelstiltskin led his wife up the spiral staircase to the far right of the entry doors and along the second floor balcony past rows and rows of books until he came to a stop at a golden gate.  He stared down at her, his warm amber eyes intense as he clasped her chin loosely in his hand.  “This is the restricted section, pet.  As I said before, it is restricted for a reason.”  He was conflicted as his thumb brushed gently over the smooth curve of her jaw.  “There are things in here unsafe for you to touch, do you understand?”

 

Belle nodded jerkily, pasting a serious expression on her face.  “No touching.  I promise.”

 

His mouth crooked up in a half moon grin, swiped his hand over his brocade vest to relieve it of the moisture that had gathered there.  He didn’t know why he was nervous to show her his horde of magical tomes, but he refused to go back on their deal regardless of his reservations.  Finally he nodded and pressed his hand to the gate.  The gold grille shimmered at the onslaught of his magical touch, melting away to leave a wide archway leading into the room.  It reappeared as soon as they’d stepped inside.  He couldn’t take a chance that the children would sneak in and find themselves in trouble.

 

Belle fisted her hands tightly as he led her through the stacks, resisting the urge to touch.  She shivered, the feel of magic tangible in the air.  She’d begun to recognize it more and more the longer she resided in the castle, but here it was more prevalent, darker somehow.  

 

He wrapped his arm about her shoulders and pulled her close as he stopped near one of the stacks.  “Are you alright, pet?” he asked, his lips brushing lightly against her temple.  “We don’t have to remain if you’re uncomfortable here.”

 

“No,” she said with a firm shake of her head.  “If I’m to know you, I need to know of your magic as well … to understand it.”

 

“It’s not something I will teach you, Belle,” he murmured fervently, determined that her innocence would not be tainted with dark magic.  He had never met anyone so pure of spirit or without the least bit of artifice and he wouldn’t let the demon corrupt her.  “Please don’t ask that of me.”

 

Her gaze was clear and direct as she looked up at him.  “No, it’s nothing like that.  I have no desire to learn magic, Rum.  I am just curious.  Such as…” she bit her lip as her eyes scanned the rows of tomes.  “…is it only dark magic that you practice?  According to _The Seven Theories of the Dark Mystics_ by Mortimer, there are many types of magic.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin arched a brow at her, letting his arm fall from about her shoulders and cocking his head to the side to listen intently, clearly intrigued.  “Is there now?  And what did Mr. Mortimer have to say on the subject?”

 

“Well, I didn’t get to quite finish that particular book,” she admitted ruefully.  “Mildred found it and told papa what I was reading.  The library was then swept for any books on magic and that was the end of that.”

 

The sorcerer gnashed his teeth, averting his gaze so she wouldn’t see the loathing he held for the man who’d sired her. 

 

“However, from what I was able to discern, most magical beings practice their own brand of magic.  The most common are dark and light magicks, but there is elfin magic, fairy magic…” she blushed beneath his scrutiny, her voice trailing away.

 

“Why’d you stop, pet?  I was quite enjoying your dissertation,” he murmured, twining his fingers with hers to stroll down a random aisle.  She could have been siting the twelve uses of dragon’s blood to him and he wouldn’t have cared.  He was coming to find that he simply enjoyed her company and conversation.  It wasn’t often to find someone – aside from his children – who actually wanted to converse with him.

 

“I…ah…I don’t want to overstep myself with you, husband,” she mumbled softly.  “I tend to ramble sometimes when I’m passionate about a subject…especially books.”

 

He stopped in the center of the aisle and turned to her, gently tilting her chin up to meet his eyes.  “Do not fear that you will be punished for speaking your mind, dearie.  I would never scold you for having new ideas nor for putting them to voice.”  He pressed his brow to hers, sighing happily as she wound her arms about his neck.  “You are not restricted here, pet.  This is your home now, not Avonlea.”

 

“I know, it’s just…it will take some getting used to, I guess.”  She reached up to give him a swift kiss on his cheek and linked her arm with his as he led them to a tall window with a cozy nook, the padded bench seat set deep into the frame.  With a flick of his wrist, the heavy velvet drape opened to reveal a magnificent view of the forest. 

 

He sat down and rested his back against the myriad of multi-hued pillows, patting the seat beside him.  “You will,” he assured her, hiding his small pleased smile as she reached for his hand.  It still boggled him that she was so eager to touch him.  He definitely had not expected her tactile nature when she’d agreed to become his wife.  He tried to remember what she had asked him earlier, needing something to occupy his mind other than the desire to whisk her off to their bed chamber.  “As to your earlier question…it would depend on what is required of me as to what type of magic I use.”

 

“So it would depend on the deal you strike?” she asked curiously.  “Wouldn’t someone seek out a fairy instead of the Dark One if their intentions were pure, though?”

 

He chuckled darkly, amused with her naiveté. “You see therein lies the crux of the matter.  I’m sure by the time they are desperate enough to call on me, they’ve exhausted all other methods.  When ogres were threatening your kingdom, did your father not call on the fairies to save you?”

 

Belle lowered her gaze guiltily, affirming his suspicions.  “He did call on them, but Rheul Ghorm told him she could not interfere.  It was then I overheard Fenwick – he was one of my guards – he told Mildred he was surprised the king hadn’t called upon the Dark One instead.  At first I thought he was just trying to tease her, but the look on her face said otherwise, almost as if she were fearful for him to even mention it.  It was then I decided to find out everything possible about whom he was speaking of.  Papa may have removed all the books on magic from the library,” she retorted with a sinful grin, “but not those on magical beings.”

 

He huffed a short bark of laughter at her ingenuity.  “And yet still you called upon me,” he teased in an aside, whispering conspiratorially out of the corner of his mouth.  “What a bold little princess you are.”

 

“Someone had to do something,” she shrugged.  “I’m just thankful our deal was already struck before I had to confront him about what I’d done.  I fear my fate would have been much worse than being locked in the tower.”

 

The Dark One roared in the back of Rumpelstiltskin’s mind, rattling the bars of his metaphorical cage.  The more he learned of the injustice done to his little wife, the harder it was to keep the beast safely caged.  He rose quickly from the window seat and paced away from her, concentrating on a shelf of books in the effort to calm himself.  He wanted nothing more than to let the demon loose on the monarch that had abused his precious Belle.  The man didn’t deserve to have such a woman as his daughter.  He knew if anyone had ever dared to treat his Morraine in such a way, there would be nowhere in the seven realms the bastard could hide from him.

 

Belle looked up at him, startled, worry evident in the deep pools of her cerulean eyes.  He shook himself.  He could easily get lost in those eyes of hers.  “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, rising to follow after him.  She clasped her hands together tightly as she peeked up at him from beneath her lashes.  She wanted so badly to trust in his word that she had free reign to voice her thoughts and feelings, but so many years of having to watch every syllable she uttered was a difficult habit to break.

 

“What?” he asked, confused for a moment.  Then the red haze of rage obscuring his gaze cleared and he was able to focus on her concerned features.  “No, pet, no,” he assured her, shaking his head as he reached to pull her into a light embrace.  “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

 

Her arms slipped around his waist and she gave him a squeeze as she rested her face against his chest.  “I’m sorry for bringing the mood down…again.  I’ll try to refrain from mentioning papa in future.”

 

The imp felt like banging his head against the shelf behind them.  “I don’t want you to think you can’t talk about your past, Belle.  That’s not what I meant,” he grumbled irritably. 

 

“I suppose it will take us a while before we can stop being afraid of misunderstanding the other, won’t it?” she asked, nuzzling happily into the crook of her neck.  She still couldn’t fathom what it was about her husband that drew her to him with such startling allure, but she felt as if she couldn’t get close enough.  He was nearly as intoxicating as those chocolates her papa used to bring her on her birthday.

 

His arms tightened about her, a happy rumble sounding low in his chest.  “I think we’re doing fine, so far,” he mumbled, a smirk lifting one corner of his mouth.  He released her, knowing if he kissed her again, there would be no stopping him this time and they’d miss dinner with the children.  He reached up to pull one of the books off the shelf and brought it over to a table piled high with papers, more books, quills and surrounded by several high backed chairs.  Setting it on the table, he stepped back so she could see the title on the gilded cover of the white leather bound book.

 

“ _A Beginner’s Guide to White Magic_?” Belle asked curiously as she read the title aloud.  She still looked to him for permission before laying her hands on it.

 

“Yes, pet.  This one you may touch.  I just don’t want you laying your delicate little hands on something that could hurt you.  Not everything in here is poisonous,” he retorted, pacing restlessly behind her.  “Is this something…perhaps…you’d like to read?”

 

“Rumpelstiltskin, if there’s one thing you should know now, it’s that I will read just about anything,” she answered sheepishly.  “It’s a weakness of mine, really.”

 

He tucked the book under his arm and offered the other to his wife.  “Shall we?  I’m fairly certain the children should be ready with their picnic.” 

 

She looped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her out of the restricted room.  “Rum, what other kinds of books are there here?  You said there are some on dark magic, others on light.  Are there specific things such as potions or rituals?”

 

His gaze narrowed suspiciously on her, suddenly feeling uncomfortable as the Dark One poked his head out of his cage to sniff the air appreciatively.  “Yes, there are sections on different rituals and their subsequent sub sections.  The same goes for potions, spells, charms, magical objects… Pet, why the sudden interest?”

 

Her brow furrowed in a thoughtful frown and her lower lip disappeared between her teeth.  He could practically hear the gears whirring away in her head.  “You said your deals take you away quite often, yes?”  At his nod she continued.  “What would you say is the most requested item when you’re called upon for your magic?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin pulled her to a stop in the middle of the balcony and gripped her upper arms in near desperation for an explanation to her endless questioning.  “Potions mainly.  Why?  You’re rambling on and you’re not being the least bit forthcoming.  What. Are. You. Plotting?”

 

Belle smiled shyly and smoothed her hands over his vest, easing away some of the tension that was practically vibrating beneath his unusual skin.  “Never think that I would plot against you, husband…”

 

“But?” His eyes narrowed.  “I know I bloody well hear a ‘ _but’_ in there.”

 

“Remember when you said this morning that you would like me to become involved with the village?” she asked, pausing as he waved an impatient hand for her to elaborate.  “I was thinking – only if you agree, mind you –we could open an apothecary and sell some of your potions?  If you’re amenable we could even donate a portion of the profits to expanding the town?”

 

He gaped at her in stunned disbelief.  “You want to sell my potions?”

 

“Those wanting to make a deal with the Dark One would have to come to you.  Think of the benefits.  You would be home more and your shop would bring in more business for the village.  The poor soul who wished for a deal could possibly see more of what our little town had to offer and they would then tell their friends, their friends would tell their friends, and so on and so forth, thereby bringing more clients.  Who’s to say, once they concluded their business with you they might take advantage of our other little shops.  They might even go so far as to spend the night at the inn and …”  She paused to draw breath and he took the opportunity to get a word in.

 

“Belle!”

 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, looking down at her hands where they plucked idly at the golden clasps on his vest.  “I just thought it would help lighten your burden and benefit the town at the same time.”

 

He had to admit the idea had merit.  He would be able to spend more time with his family and his little town would indeed prosper, but did he want to do more for him than he already did?  Apparently, his brilliant little wife did.  The Dark One rattled the door of his cage and snarled before retreating, not liking the idea at all.  One of the things about deal-making that he reveled in most was the fear he was able to instill in his clients.  What Belle was suggesting would practically turn him into a business owner.  No more poofing unexpectedly from place to place in the dead of night.  No more having to leave the children and hoping they wouldn’t notice his absence.  A vision stole over him, clouding his head for a moment…a rather pleasant one of working in the tower laboratory with his wife, his wee ones happily gathering herbs and potion ingredients.  The potential was rather gratifying to say the least.

 

Of course the demon had to bring up a list of cons to go along with Belle’s pros.  Part of his deals pertained to secrecy.  Who would actually wish to admit to dealing with the sorcerer in the bright light of day where all and sundry would be able to see who entered the shop?  “Dearie, no one will want to visit an apothecary run by the Dark One.”

 

“It wouldn’t be run by the Dark One, Rumpel,” she murmured sadly, hating it that he could only see himself as a monster of legend.  The more time she spent with him, the more she saw the man he’d once been.  “It would be run by you.  And if it bothers you so much, you could hire someone to manage it for you.”

 

“I don’t know, pet,” he replied with a sigh.  He still couldn’t see anyone interested in things he’d have to offer.  He started her across the balcony once more, leading her towards the large mezzanine where Morraine’s Agrabahan themed nook - or rather the _harem_ as she referred to it - was located.

 

“Would you … ah … at least think about it?  If it was successful, you could have something to turn over to Bae or Morraine when they were older.  It would help to secure their future.  Not only would they have something to provide a steady income for them, it would also project an air of success that they could build on.  Others would see them as highly respected members of the community,” she cajoled, playing on his need to provide for the children.  “You wouldn’t want our daughter to have to rely upon finding a husband to support her, would you, Rumpelstiltskin?”

 

His heart stuttered as she referred to Morraine as _theirs_.  He arched a brow, however, as she fluttered her lashes beguilingly and pasted a demure smile on her lips.  “You, my little dearie, would have made a splendid queen.  You are very business minded for a young girl and would have been a strong leader.  I find myself pitying the people of Avonlea for losing you.”

 

“And you, husband, have changed the subject,” she giggled.

 

“So I have.”  He kissed her lightly on her rosy cheek and pulled the curtain back for her to precede him into the harem.  He wouldn’t disappoint her, however.  He would put some thought into her ideas and perhaps find some way to fulfill her desires.  Happy wife … happy life, after all.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Bae and Morraine pounced on her the moment she entered through the curtains, pulling her into the center of their space and helping her to sit on a large throw pillow.  Belle was stunned.  It truly did look like something out of a sultan’s harem with its sheer gauzy hangings in shades of crimson and gold.  Pillows in a myriad of shapes and sizes dotted the floor and a low table sat at its center.  Morraine had draped a linen cloth over the table and it was laden with a small feast for their supper.

 

“Come sit with us, Belle,” Morraine chirped excitedly, taking her stepmother’s hand in hers and leading her forward.  “Take off your shoes, though.”

 

“My shoes?” Belle asked, bewildered.  She complied, but only made it another step or two before Baelfire added his two cents. 

 

“Costumes, papa!” the boy intoned, sending his father a hopeful look.  It was tradition when they picnicked in the library to dress to match the theme they chose.  It wasn’t one of Rumpelstiltskin’s favorite activities, but the children thrived on it.

 

“Must we?” he asked in a pained whisper.  “Can’t we just forego the costumes this one time?”

 

“Pllleeeaaassseee,” they pleaded, their large sable eyes wide and liquid as they gazed up at him.  “It’s Belle’s first library picnic with us.  We must have costumes!” Morraine interjected.

 

“At least we’re not in the medieval nook.  You hate it when we make you dress in the dragon costume,” Bae snickered.

 

Bae and Morraine were engulfed in violet mist, their clothes transforming into garments native to Agrabah.  Baelfire looked down at himself and grinned, taking in the white tunic, purple vest and black breeches before reaching up and patting the red fez resting amongst his dark curls.  Morraine squealed with delight as she glanced down at her own costume.  Silk pantalets covered her legs in a lovely mint green silk, a wide waistband inlaid with peridot gemstones modestly covering her bellybutton.  Her top, with its square neckline, covered her still flat bosom, more jewels dotting the wide band over her ribs where more silk flowed out to cover her midriff.  Wide sheer sleeves covered her arms to end in wide jeweled cuffs and her long dark gold tresses were adorned with jeweled pins at her crown.

 

“Oh, Morraine, that color looks lovely on you,” Belle breathed, stunned at the transformation.  She looked like an elegant young woman instead of a girl who’d barely just entered her teens.

 

The girl beamed at her stepmother and turned her mischievous gaze on her father.  “Now it’s Belle’s turn, papa.”

 

Belle gaped at her.  “I…no…that’s not necessary.”

 

“Sure it is,” Baelfire said flippantly as he took his seat at the table.  “You need a costume too.  It’s part of the fun.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin hid an amused smile behind his hand, enjoying seeing his children plead and cajole his wife.  They did it to him often enough.  It was nice to see them charm and beguile someone else for a change.  He pasted a serious expression on his weathered features and paced around her, contemplating what would look best on her.  The Dark One had his own ideas.  His mouth went dry as he raked her from head to toe, touching on every bit of skin bared to his wandering gaze.

 

Her feet were bare, a slim golden anklet inlaid with aquamarines fastened about her slender right ankle.  The ice blue skirt was sheer and gauzy, flowing lightly over her legs, the hem trimmed in gold, the wide jewel-encrusted waistband dipping below her navel where another of the light blue stones winked seductively in the lamp light.  The sleeveless vest barely covered her breasts and he found he couldn’t look away.  He wanted to bury his face between them above the single gold clasp and it was with great restraint that he closed his eyes and fought off the surge of lust spiraling through his body.  The demon had a horrible sense of humor, he thought irritably.  The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed convulsively as his perusal slipped to her bare stomach.  She was positively indecent.  Thankfully she had her back to the children and they couldn’t see what was on display to his hungry gaze.

 

It was the draft against her bare skin that alerted Belle to her state of undress, and she quickly raised her arms to cover her breasts, casting him a look of betrayal that was like a knife to his heart.  “Rum!”

 

“Sorry, pet.  Uh…” he stammered.  He cursed the demon to perdition as he summoned a robe to match.  He whipped the lacy garment over her shoulders and held it while she slipped her arms into the sleeves.  Of course the Dark One continued to toy with them.  The robe fell short of closing over her chest, leaving the swell of her breasts and her bare midriff on display.  He groaned.  How the hell was he supposed to get through dinner like this?  The Dark One laughed uproariously in the back of his mind.  He was slowly losing his patience.

 

“This is better,” Belle assured him, recognizing the lines of stress which appeared near his mouth as he ground his teeth.  “Let’s just have dinner, hm?”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

She giggled.  “Once I’m sitting down at the table, it will be fine.” Or at least she hoped it would be.  She felt more exposed than if she’d been stripped completely bare.  She supposed even someone as powerful as her husband could have a misfire of magic from time to time.  With a snap of his fingers, he donned his usual cotton sleeping pants and silk tunic, though this time a robe of black velvet draped his shoulders.  She bit her lip reflexively and lowered her eyes as heat unfurled in her belly and her skin tingled with pleasure.  Was it wrong of her to wish dinner were over so they could retire to their chambers?

 

The children gaped at her as she sat down next to Rumpelstiltskin at the table.  “Wow, Belle!  You look like you stepped right out of the pages of Morraine’s favorite book,” Baelfire said as he reached for a loaf of warm date bread. 

 

Belle didn’t recognize most of the dishes on the table, having never been allowed to visit Agrabah with her father nor having entertained the sultan or his dignitaries in Avonlea.  She looked to her husband and smiled tentatively.  Thankfully, he recognized her discomfort with the unfamiliar foods and filled a plate for her.

 

“Don’t worry, pet, you’ll become accustomed to new things before you know it.  I still say you were far too sheltered in that stuffy old palace.”  He set a small bowl before her and she picked up her fork, poking at the assortment of shredded cucumber and diced tomatoes atop a bed of lettuce.  Next was a small chicken kebab – a brochette of chicken breast marinated in Agrabahan herbs and spices, including saffron and cumin – roast lamb meshoui – the shank slow roasted and succulent - and for dessert a flaky baklava, oozing with nuts and honey.

 

Belle ate little, unused to the heavily spiced dishes, but she thoroughly enjoyed the baklava, the combination of the honey, nuts and pastry soothing after the rich foods.  “Well, that was…interesting.  Have you ever visited Agrabah?” she asked, turning to her husband.

 

“I have, several times now,” he said, clearing the table with a sweep of magic, banishing the dishes to the kitchen.  “If you’d like, we could visit the bazaar there.”

 

He didn’t know who looked more excited, the children or his little wife.  Her eyes lit up at the thought of seeing distant lands.  “I’ve always wanted to see new places,” she admitted as he settled back against a mound of pillows and ran a hand over his full belly.  He crooked a finger in her direction, beckoning her closer. 

 

Morraine sat on his right, a large red leather bound book on her lap.  “What tale do you want to read tonight, papa?” she asked, flipping through the pages. 

 

“I want to hear the one about the forty thieves,” Bae chimed in, plopping down next to Belle and stretched out to rest his head in her lap.  She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair.

 

“Will you, papa?” Morraine asked, handing over the book already turned to the correct page.  “And do the voices like last time?”

 

The imp relaxed further and took the book from his daughter.  “I suppose.  One story and then it’s bedtime for you both.”  He winked at Belle as he felt a wave of contentment wash over him.  It didn’t matter that the Dark One growled ominously at the back of his mind, the happiness assailing him making the demon writhe in discomfort.  All that mattered was his family’s happiness as they lounged in the little haven, safe and warm.  It gave him strength to keep the darkness at bay.

 

“ _In a faraway land, there was once a man named Ali Baba …”_

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Rumpelstiltskin’s voice faltered as a tingle of awareness shot up his spine.  The scent of desperation assaulted his senses and he groaned.  He didn’t want to leave his family to make a deal.  Perhaps if he ignored the call, the fool would go away and leave him alone.

 

The demon shook his head and rattled the bars of his cage.  _You know it doesn’t work that way, Spinner.  You must heed the call of the desperate … whether you like it or not.  You can play the simpering family man when you return if you want._

“What is it, papa?  You were just getting to the good part when Ali finds the cave,” Baelfire asked, rolling onto his stomach to look up at his father.

 

“Uh-oh,” Morraine groaned.  “He’s got that look, Bae.”

 

“What look?” Belle asked, confused.

 

“Someone’s calling him,” Bae answered.  “See that distracted squinty look?  That’s how you can tell.”

 

“Rum?  What happens if you don’t answer the call?” Belle took the book and laid it aside, twining her fingers with his as she rose to her feet and pulled him up beside her.

 

“I don’t have a choice.  When they call I must go.”  He cast a stern glance at the children.  “You two get off to bed, hm?  And don’t give Belle any grief about bath time, Baelfire.”

 

“Yes, papa,” the boy said with a roll of his eyes.  “Like I’m five and need to be told to behave.  You’d think I’d never…” his voice trailed off as he disappeared down the staircase, grumbling all the way.

 

Morraine reached up on her toes to kiss her papa’s cheek.  “’Night, papa.  Do be careful.  Love you,” she said around a huge yawn as she joined her brother.

 

Belle watched them go before she turned her worried gaze to her husband.  “Will you be gone very long?” she asked curiously, feeling more than a little anxious being left alone.  All her life she’d been surrounded by guards, maids, ladies in waiting and servants.  She didn’t know how she’d react without someone standing over her shoulder watching her every move.  Even at the Dark Castle she’d been in the almost constant presence of Rumpelstiltskin or the children.

 

He wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her close, burying his nose in the crook of her neck.  She grasped tightly at his shoulders as his teeth scraped gently at her tender flesh, his tongue darting out to soothe away the sting.  Her eyes drooped closed as her lips parted on a gasp, her heart racing as a wave of pleasure washed over her, igniting her blood and raising goosebumps on her flesh.  His lips trailed up to her ear.  “I promise to return as soon as possible, pet,” he purred silkily.  “Tuck the children in and wait for me, yes?”

 

She nodded jerkily, willing to agree to just about anything he wished as long as she knew he would return to her arms.  He smiled against her lips as he gave her a gentle kiss before pulling away, his magic swirling about him to transport him across the realm.  She pressed her hands to her cheeks, feeling the warmth of her blush beneath her fingertips and sighed, wondering again why he was the only man to have ever made her feel such intense pleasure with a mere kiss.

 

Belle picked up the book he’d taken from the restricted section and tucked it beneath her arm as she left the library to see to the children and then return to her – their – bed chamber to await him, wondering what he might have in store for her that evening.  She knew she could rest assured that she wouldn’t be disappointed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This wasn’t my favorite chapter, I’ll admit, but I like to see Belle taking an interest in the village and wanting it to prosper. He wasn’t happy about having to leave either, so I really don’t see his deal going well. Perhaps the desperate soul will have to remain just that … desperate. Hope you all enjoyed. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing!! Love to you all!


	12. Destitute & Desperate

The sorcerer easily found his footing on the sturdy limb as he crouched down, balancing himself with a hand on the branch above.  His sharp amber eyes gathered what light the moon provided, causing them to glow in the darkness … the eyes of a predator.  With a low growl of disgust, he realized how true it was.  He _was_ a predator, as surely as the other monsters that dwelled in the realm.  All because of the demon.  The Dark One spat and snarled, shaking the bars of his metaphorical cage impatiently, desperately trying to break free, to take control.

 

He bounced on the balls of his feet as he watched through the spinner’s eyes.  The woman - the one who had called out, pleading for someone, _anyone_ to help her - ran through the forest below, tears streaming down her ashen face, her lips moving in a continuous litany of pleas.  _“She’ssssss ripe for the plucking, Spinner.  I waaaannnttt her,”_ it hissed in a serpentine voice, it’s true nature oozing venomously in Rumpelstiltskin’s mind.

 

“Of course you do,” Rumpelstiltskin murmured softly, stroking his chin thoughtfully.  His gifts – talents brought to him through his curse – could easily search the woman, her mind, her heart, her darkest desires, and he didn’t like what was revealed to him.  “Her potential for darkness is astounding.  She calls to you, would revel in your nature,” he snapped irritably.

 

_“Let me have this one.  You have the princess to toy with.  It’s only fair that you let me have a new pet as well.”_

 

“No, fiend.  I will not tarnish my union with Belle so that you can defile that woman,” he hissed angrily, exerting more control over the Dark One.  He focused on the woman below, wincing as she tripped over a tree root, her vision hindered by the darkness.  “She has much anger, this one.  Resentment, an overabundance of pride, and a need for vengeance as well.”

 

The Dark One purred happily.  _“My kind of girl.  Are you sure I can’t dally with her?”_

 

The light of the moon shone brightly on the woman as it peeked between the clouds and the sorcerer’s eyes narrowed.  “She’s heavy with child.”

 

_“Look deeper, Spinner.  What could she possibly have done to prompt the king to send his minions after her in the dead of night?”_

 

“She won’t last much longer at this rate.  They’re mounted on prime horseflesh and she is on foot.  They’ll easily overtake her.”  The question was … should he help her?  Belle would surely want him to help, despite his misgivings.

 

_“Would you stop thinking of your little pet long enough to get down to business?!?!”_

“Oh shut it!”  The Dark One acquiesced reluctantly as Rumpelstiltskin finally made up his mind to investigate further.  He stepped out into midair, his foot suspended twelve feet from the ground as his magic enveloped him and brought him to the forest floor.  He quickly caught the woman as she barreled into him, his hand closing over her mouth.  He whirled her in his arms and transported her effortlessly to a sturdy branch high above them, the king’s guards passing beneath them in their quest for the fugitive.

 

He kept one arm firmly about her waist as his lips sought out her ear.  “Don’t scream, dearie.  Let’s not invite your friends to return,” he giggled softly.  “Nod if you understand, won’t you?  I’d like to know I’m not dealing with a simpleton.”

 

The woman nodded jerkily, making it clear that she understood.  He could feel her ire rise, however.  Slowly, he removed his hand and leaned back against the trunk of the tree.  “W-What are you?” she stuttered, clutching wildly at the branch she sat upon to steady herself.

 

“My, my, dearie … how rude!  I just saved your life in case you hadn’t noticed.  I could always drop you off back at the palace.  Someone must be missing you,” he sneered, not liking her imperious attitude in the slightest.

 

She shivered at the malice lacing his tone.  She lowered her gaze, peeking at him from beneath her lashes.  “I apologize.  I just … you took me by surprise, is all.”

 

“What is your name, girl,” he snapped, realizing if he gave an inch, she would seize the advantage … or try at least.

 

“C-Cora,” she said in barely more than a whisper, her teeth chattering from the frigid wind that blew through the trees.

 

“Well, C-Cora,” he mocked her, his nose wrinkling in amusement as her dark eyes flashed ominously at him.  Oh yes, she definitely dwelled in the darkness, but he still held out hope for her.  “Shall we quit this place?  I’d hate to see your friends return.”

 

Cora didn’t argue.  Even as wary and suspicious of the imp as she might be, it was proof positive that her luck was changing … at least for the time being.  If this thing … er … man was willing to help her, she wasn’t stupid enough to say no.  Anything was better than the king’s dungeon.  She gasped, feeling the world fall away from beneath her feet, the air ripped from her lungs as he transported them only the gods knew where.  The din of a raucous crowd met her ears, and she forced herself to crack one eye open, leery of where the imp might have taken her.  She relaxed somewhat upon seeing it was just a pub.  He, on the other hand, was less than thrilled and seemed to be having an inner debate with some hereto unforeseen part of himself.

 

“Come along, dearie,” he grumbled, taking her elbow and leading her to a dark corner, drawing the hood of his cloak up and sitting with his back against the wall so he could peruse the tavern at his leisure.  He arched a brow, taking note of her ill-concealed nervousness.  “Are you hungry?  You look as though you could use a meal, not to mention a bath.”

 

Her jaw tightened perceptibly and her eyes flashed hotly, but her tone was civil as she answered.  “Yes, please.  The king isn’t known for his hospitality towards his prisoners.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin snapped his fingers, beckoning to the barmaid to bring ale.  The willowy girl trembled slightly, her feet dragging her slowly to the table.  “Bring supper for my companion, dearie,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving Cora’s face.  She had the distinct impression that he was trying to look into her very soul.  “Tell me what brought you to be his _guest_.  Surely he’s not responsible for your present delicate condition,” he sneered, a smirk curling up one corner of his mouth.

 

“No,” she admitted ruefully, reaching for the bowl of peanuts on the table and cracking a few, feeling the need to keep her hands busy to still their trembling.  “I used to work in a tavern much like this one.  A man …” she clenched her teeth at the thought of her former paramour.  “A man duped me into believing he was the royal prince.  He asked me to marry him, and I …”

 

“You gave yourself to him without benefit of the ceremony?  How dreadfully … _tacky_.  Am I to presume correctly that he was no prince and when he found out about his impending fatherhood, he tossed you like three day old bread?” the sorcerer giggled, the sound making the woman flush bright scarlet.

 

The barmaid brought over a plate of braised lamb shank, boiled cabbage and a fresh loaf of crusty bread before fleeing once more to hide behind the bar.  Cora forgot her anger in light of the meal and tucked into her meal, all effort at decorum or manners deserting her in light of her hunger.

 

“Slow down, dearie.  I don’t want you to choke before we are able to make a deal,” he twittered, taking a careful sip of his ale.

 

“A deal,” she mumbled, her mouth full.  “What kind of deal?”

 

He grimaced.  “Did your mother never teach you not to speak with your mouth full?”

 

She nodded, sitting up a little straighter and wiping her mouth on a napkin.  “When you’re this hungry, manners seem to be the farthest thing from one’s mind.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin could remember those days of near starvation all too well and had to agree with her.  “True.  So, back to your plight.  How did you incur the king’s wrath?”

 

She tore off a piece of the bread and idly dipped it into the light gravy on her plate.  “I … when I found Jonathan, I learned he was nothing more than the gardener there at the palace.  I was still willing to have him, but he made it clear that he no longer … wanted me or my baby.  I had no idea what I was going to do, and then …” she paused, smiling slightly at the memory.  “I drew the notice of Leopold, the true heir to the crown.”

 

“Ah … and the king took exception to his dalliance with a peasant?” the imp snickered.

 

“No, it wasn’t that.  Leopold chose me as his bride, breaking off his betrothal in order to wed me.  The king was less than pleased.  However, the prince was happy, I was happy for the first time in my life,” she muttered softly, a furrow appearing between her dark brows as she frowned. 

 

“And?” he prompted when she remained silent for overlong, his strange eyes regarding her searchingly.

 

“I hadn’t told him of the baby.  I’d kept it a secret, and you know that never ends well.  Yet I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell him until after the wedding.  Jonathan returned when he learned I was engaged to the prince, demanded money if I wanted him to keep my secret.”  She took a deep breath, rage welling inside her as she thought of the events that had led her to the dungeon.  “Leopold’s former betrothed overheard and ran straight to the prince to spill my secrets.  The king was more than happy to toss me into the dungeon, where I’ve been ever since.”

 

“Let me guess,” the sorcerer sneered.  “Leopold married his little princess and left you to rot.”

 

“Yes,” she bit out sharply, pushing her empty plate aside.  “The simpering little twit.”

 

“I wouldn’t discount her, dearie.  She outsmarted _you_ ,” he giggled, the sound garnering unwanted attention from the patrons nearest them.  “So the question now seems to be what is it you want?”

 

“What do you mean?” she asked, casting him a bewildered frown.  “I wanted to be free from my prison and you’ve done that quite remarkably.  I suppose you’ll be wanting payment in kind,” she murmured, a shudder wracking her lithe form as she took in his unusual skin, stained teeth and glowing eyes.

 

The Dark One was nearly manic with unsuppressed elation. _“Yessssss! Yes! Yes! Yes!  After she drops the bairn I can have her six ways to Sabbath!”_

_“No, fiend, you most certainly will not,”_ he objected quite loudly, even if it was only in his mind. 

 

“Thank you, dearie, for the kind offer,” he snarked acidly, “but I’m happily married and I wouldn’t want to bring anything home to the little wife.”

 

She gaped in outrage, her lips curling into a snarl.  “I’ll have you know –“

 

The imp waved a dismissive hand.  “Oh, stow it.  I couldn’t very well make a deal with you if you’d ended up on the pointy end of a sword, now could i?  No, the bargain I have in mind will be very hard for you to refuse.”

 

She crossed her arms over her chest, finding herself more curious than outraged by his insulting manner.  “I’m listening.”

 

“Tell me, what is more important to you … revenge against those who have slighted you, or the wee babe nestled in your belly?” he asked, his visage stern and unyielding.

 

Her brow furrowed as she looked down at her hands, moving them protectively over the large swell of her abdomen, taking comfort in her child’s movements, an affirmation that she’d survived the flight through the forest.  “My child means everything to me,” she whispered fervently, her eyes sparkling with tears as she raised her gaze to his.  “I just don’t know how I’m going to care for her as things stand now.”

 

“Choose, dearie.  Revenge … or your child.”

 

“I want my child,” she said, not having realized until that moment just how precious the life she harbored meant to her. 

 

He rose from his seat on the other side of the table and rounded it to sit on the bench at her side, his hands cradling hers where they rested on her belly as he brought his face close to hers.  “Are you sure?  How will you care for her?  You have no husband, no money, no home …”

 

“I –“

 

He closed his eyes, tendrils of magic curling about the woman, his innate vision clearing with visions of what her wee daughter would become.  She would be powerful, but bitter and angry … a deadly combination.  She would become a threat without the love of her mother.  “I can give you a new life, dearie.  If you embrace it – if you give up this notion of revenge that blackens your heart – I can give you a life of wealth, prestige … happiness.”

 

A lone tear trekked unchecked over her cheek, leaving a trail through the grime.  “You would help me?”

 

“For a price,” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger slightly apart as she held his penetrating gaze. 

 

“I don’t have anything to offer you,” she sighed dejectedly.

 

“Let’s worry about that later.” He rose from the bench and held out a hand to her.  “Shall we go?”

 

“Go?”

 

“Well, dearie, we won’t be making grand things happen here,” he sniffed disdainfully as he glanced about the tavern.

 

Cora slipped her hand into his, forcing herself not to recoil from her savior.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Rumpelstiltskin pulled Cora back into the shadows, making sure her long dun gray skirts were hidden from view as he pressed her between his back and the cold stone wall.  “What are we doing here?  Better yet,” she complained, “where is here?”

 

“Shh, dearie.  Just watch.”

 

Cora shifted uncomfortably, the wall digging uncomfortably through the thin rags that served as her gown.  The castle was bustling with activity as the servants seemed to be preparing for some type of gala and her innate curiosity kept her quiet as she tried to discern more from the muted conversations.  Her eyes were instantly drawn to a tall man in his mid-twenties – or so she surmised – with dark hair and warm whiskey colored eyes.

 

“That is Prince Henry,” Rumpelstiltskin whispered, pointing to the man.  “His father is holding a ball tomorrow evening to celebrate the prince’s twenty fifth birthday … at which time he shall choose a bride.”

 

Cora cut her eyes sharply to the imp, loathing evident in their chocolate depths.  “What has this to do with _me_?” she hissed impatiently.

 

The mage scowled at her over his shoulder.  “You’re a thick one, aren’t you? I clearly didn’t give you enough credit.”  He pointed at the prince, walking through the great hall at his father’s side.  “Prince Henry is kind, compassionate, loyal, trustworthy – the whole nine yards – but most importantly … he’s a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

 

Cora snorted.  “And I suppose I get to be said damsel?”

 

“Of course, dearie.  Just picture it …” He raised his left hand the thumb and forefinger making a ninety degree angle as he flourished it boldly.  “The young prince comes across the princess, heavy with child, her carriage wheel broken beyond repair.”  He flourished the other hand in the same way, his voice a dramatic stage whisper.  “He takes one look into the soulful eyes of the young widowed princess and falls hopelessly in love with her, whisking her back to the castle to put forth his suit for her hand.”

 

_The Dark One rolled his eyes and smacked his face with the palm of his hand emitting a loud groan.  “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you, Spinner?  You should be on the bloody stage, man!”_

“You’re forgetting something,” Cora jeered scornfully.  “I’m _not_ a princess.  I’m a simple miller’s daughter and nothing you do can change that.”

Rumpelstiltskin clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, tsking her.  “Are you saying you couldn’t play the part?  I can provide all the trappings and finery of your station, but it would be up to you to continue the charade.”

 

Her hands curled protectively around her belly as her child kicked happily.  For her baby … for her child she could … would … do anything.  “Yes, I can do it, but if I’m to pull this off, who is my father? What kingdom do I hail from? Who is my supposedly deceased husband?  The prince is going to be curious, don’t you think?”  She laid a hand on his shoulder, drawing his gaze back to her.  “And you haven’t even hinted at what your price might be.”

 

He wrapped his hand about her wrist and with a thought they were off again, this time just on the edge of the forest where a small white pavilion awaited them.  “Not to worry, dearie.  I will handle everything,” he assured her as he ushered her into the tent.  “In the meantime, relax, bathe for the love of the gods, and rest.  When I return, we will discuss the details.”

 

Before she could protest, he was gone.  She clutched her meager shawl about her shoulders and perused her surroundings, taking in the rich appointment of the field tent.  Steam rose from the large copper tub hidden by the delicately painted screen, a table with two chairs held a large bowl of fruit and a basin and pitcher, and in the far corner behind sheer gauzy drapes was a comfortable looking bed piled high with a down duvet and a mountain of pillows.  No matter how much the bed drew her, she knew she’d better get herself cleaned up before the imp returned.

 

She ventured behind the screen to find a lovely dressing gown in rose silk, a hastily scrawled note sitting atop it.  _Toss the rags you’re wearing into the fire pit.  You won’t be needing them any longer.  –R._ At least they had found one thing they could happily agree on.  Her clothes fell away from her dirt streaked body and she kicked them away with a snarl of distaste, hurriedly sinking into the tub, the steam curling above its surface scented with wisteria and lilacs.  She couldn’t relax, however, keeping her ears attuned to the slightest sound of the sorcerer’s return.  She still couldn’t fathom why he wanted to help her.  Yes, she’d pleaded for help, but it wasn’t as if he was her fairy godmother.  Why should he come to her aid?

 

It would quickly drive her to insanity to think of it further.  Yet, what if he really could make her dreams come true?  The prince was rather pleasing to the eye.  If he were as warm and compassionate as her companion had stated, she could learn to love him, couldn’t she?  For the sake of her child?  Could the imp really do as he’d claimed, and provide her with a willing husband to care for her and her baby?  Could she truly find happiness with the prince and forget about her vengeance against Ava and all the others who had wronged her?  Her baby kicked fiercely and she soothed away the sting with a gentle rub to her belly.  Yes.  It if meant security for her and her child, she would do it.

 

“You’re going to prune if you stay in there much longer, dearie,” the sorcerer giggled from the other side of the screen as she heard him settle in the chair at the table and take a bite out of an apple.

 

“I’m nearly done,” she called out, rinsing the last of the soap from her long chestnut hair.

 

He hummed in agreement.  “Well, while you’ve been at your bath, I’ve ironed out the details of your past.  Have you ever heard of King Norbert of the north in the kingdom of Montagne Glacial?”

 

“No, I can’t say that I have,” she murmured distractedly as she rose from the tub and wrapped a fluffy towel about herself.  “Should I have?”

 

“Of course, dearie, as that is the kingdom you hail from.  Norbert owed me a favor and was only too happy to have the slate wiped clean.  With some clever spell work – and a hearty dose of memory potion – you will be recognized as his only daughter.  Your poor departed husband was a lesser baron, which you’d married for love rather than political gain.  Poor Gunter was lost at sea, leaving you alone and bereft, heavy with your first child.  I take that _is_ your first?”

 

“Yes,” she hissed, pulling on the dressing robe and glaring at him around the screen.  She was more than a little tempted to throw the hair brush at him that was clutched tightly in her hand.

 

“Wonderful!” he tittered, rising to pace the confines of the tent.  He was restless, disappointed that he’d had to give up an evening with his bride to tend to this task.  “So the story is that you are traveling through Prince Henry’s lands on your way home from visiting a friend in the Marshlands.”  He was sure he could have Belle claim her as a friend if someone came looking to corroborate her story.

 

“I can’t very well be traveling alone.”

 

“Not to worry, dearie.  Hannah is waiting for you outside,” he said, pulling the tent flap back to reveal the petite blonde trembling on the other side.  “Come in, sweetling.”

 

The girl nodded, keeping her eyes lowered discreetly as Cora came forward to stare down at the little peasant.  “Who is she?”

 

“Hannah is mute.  I promised her father I would heal her and secure her a position as lady’s maid to Princess Cora.  He was delighted.”  He didn’t add that she was a resident of his village and her father would be providing fresh meat for his castle free of charge for the next six months.  He turned to the girl and gently placed a clawed hand on either of her ashen cheeks.

 

“Is she deaf or just unable to speak?”  Cora asked, feeling pity for the girl.  She was a lovely little thing with long golden tresses and clear blue eyes.  It was a shame to see such beauty tarnished by disability.

 

“When she was a child, she was set upon by bandits – or so I’m told – and they … well suffice it to say, they slit her tongue where she wasn’t able to identify her attackers,” he hissed acerbically.  He didn’t want to dwell on the pain the child must have suffered.  “Hannah, dearie, are you sure you want to do this?  You will be Princess Cora’s maid until she releases you from service.  That will be _your_ price for the magic.”

 

Hannah nodded fervently, taking on of his hands from her face and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, gratitude and a healthy measure of tears forming in her eyes.  He smiled down at the girl as he focused his magic into his hands, letting it curl about her head in a faint violet glow.  Her fingers flew to her mouth as he released her.

 

“Alright, sweetling,” he said, gesturing to Cora who had crept up beside him to watch.  “Say hello to the princess.”

 

“H-Hel-Hello,” she said, the words foreign on her healed tongue.  Her eyes widened in astonishment and she dropped to her knees, clasping the hem of Rumpelstiltskin’s cloak in her trembling hands.  “T-Thank you, m’lord.  T-Thank you s-so much.”

 

The Dark One growled petulantly in the back of his mind as another of the spinner’s good deeds was added to his list of grievances.  It didn’t sit well with him that his former host had chosen such a poor replacement.  Zoso had been a fool to have chosen the spinner.  He’d just have to work harder to turn the man towards the darkness … somehow.

 

“Hannah, run along now and see to the princess’s belongings.  You’ll be traveling first thing tomorrow morning.”

 

She bobbed a curtsy and disappeared through the curtain to lay out her new mistress’s clothing for the morrow, leaving the imp alone with Cora.

 

“You’ve been busy,” Cora said, pursing her lips as she stared at him with a new degree of respect.  “Now I’d like you to tell me what it is you want from _me_.”

 

“Sit down,” he commanded, holding out a chair for her, pleased when she complied without argument.  “I want you to know that I am trying to save your child.  When you sent out your call for help, I had no intention of saving you.  Your heart is dark and full of hate because of the wrongs that have been done to you.  But without your guidance, this child will grow up to be a bitter, vengeful woman far darker than you’ve ever dreamed of being yourself.  The entire realm would suffer should you follow the path of vengeance and sacrifice her in order to do it.  That is why I am giving you this opportunity, dearie.  You have the power to save us all.”

 

Her arms curled protectively over her stomach as she shrank away from him.  “S-She?  It’s a girl?” 

 

“Yes, she is,” he said gently.

 

“And if I choose the prince she will grow up in a loving home, without fear of poverty or danger from those who think they’re better than she is?” she asked in a quiet whisper.  “I don’t want her to suffer and struggle through life as I have.”

 

“She will grow up to be a privileged princess, heir to either King Norbert’s kingdom or Henry’s.  It will be up to the two of you to decide.  You’ll never have to worry again, Cora.”  He reached out and laid a comforting hand over hers.  “Give up your need for vengeance and embrace your happiness.  Give your child the mother she deserves.”

 

“And your price?  The Dark One does nothing for free,” she said, voicing her suspicions.

 

He huffed a short mirthless laugh as he reached into the inside pocket of his cloak and extracted a small blue vial with a swirling green potion.  “This is my price.  Drink this and it will bind the child’s abilities so she will never be able to practice magic.  Drink this and the happiness I’m offering shall be yours.”

 

She hesitantly reached for the potion as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, but he offered her a quill first, nodding to the contract that had appeared on the table.  “Simply sign your name.  I’ll need this for my records.”

 

Her lips bloomed into a rather beautiful smile as she took the quill and scrawled her name next to his.  He rolled up the parchment and tucked it inside his cloak, setting the potion before her on the table. 

 

She toasted him as she popped the cork and tossed back the contents of the vial.  “Bottom’s up!”

 

Rumpelstiltskin twittered in satisfaction, pleased with the success of the deal.  “It is done, dearie.  Mr. Dove will be here at daybreak to take you the rest of the way,” he said, moving to the flap of the tent to take his leave.

 

Cora rose awkwardly to her feet and called out to him.  “How can I ever thank you?”

 

He giggled, bowing deeply.  “Send me an invitation to the wedding.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My muse is completely insane, isn’t she? One of my lovely reviewers, MyraValhallah, asked if any of the Mills women would be making an appearance in this story and my muse grabbed onto it like a dog with a milkbone. It got me to thinking … what if Rum had met Cora under different circumstances? Then I went back and watched 03x18 ‘Bleeding Through’ … guh!! The torture!!! … and I was like ooooh I can do better. I really didn’t think the scene would take an entire chapter. I mean FFS I still have Moe to torture before Rum goes back home to Belle to claim his price for showing her the restricted section of the library. I tend to be a bit long winded, so I hope this chapter wasn’t too tedious for you, my darling readers. I do strive to bring you a fascinating story with my mediocre writing and sometimes I just have to throw in the odd chapter or two. Hopefully you won’t hold it against me that Belle and the children didn’t put in an appearance in this one. So, next chapter, the Dark One convinces Rum to pay a visit to Maurice for some interesting answers. I’m really really REALLY going to try to have another chapter for you next week. Love and hugs, dearies!!


	13. Secrets Best Kept Hidden

 

 _“Absolutely pathetic, Spinner.  You represent the darkest magics this realm has ever seen.  The Dark One is synonymous with pain … grief … suffffferrrinng,”_ the demon hissed as Rumpelstiltskin sent off a message to Dove with instructions to meet Cora at daybreak with the carriage. _“You are not supposed to go about granting wishes and doing good deeds.  YOU’RE NOT A FUCKING FAIRY!!”_

“She made the right choice,” he answered silently, sighing as he saw he’d have to wage another battle against the darkness.  “It’s all about free will … you taught me that … one of my first lessons.  She chose the right path and it was for the betterment of the entire realm.  I won’t have my children suffer twenty years from now because of that woman and her child.  Now they won’t have to.”

 

The Dark One growled, a feral sound that sent a shiver of dread down the spinner’s spine. _“Zoso was a fool to have chosen you as his replacement.  He was so anxious to be rid of me, he didn’t take the time to pick a proper candidate to appreciate the power I offer.”_

Rumpelstiltskin ground his stained teeth in vexation.  “You mean he didn’t choose someone who would become drunk on the power, someone’s whose soul is as corrupt as you are, someone you could easily control.”  _Someone who had a family_ , he added, keeping that thought well hidden.  He’d done what was necessary to protect his son and later his daughter.  It was a sacrifice he’d made willingly … not for the power it would bring, but for the love of his son.  It was a choice he’d make again and again without remorse or the barest hint of regret.  Suffering the demon’s presence was a small price to pay to protect his family.

 

The Dark One tapped his blackened nails on the bars of the cage the spinner had fashioned for him months ago and cocked his head to the side, one side of his wasted mouth curling up in a grin.  _“Y’know, spinner, we’re not that far from Avonlea …”_

The mage lifted his face to the breeze, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he caught his bearings.  He was so tired.  The amount of magic he’d expended over the past week, between the banishment of the ogres for Belle and the reset of fate for Cora … well … he needed to be careful.  The last thing he needed was to drain himself to the point where the demon could assume control.  He couldn’t allow himself to inadvertently put Belle or the children in danger.

 

 _“You know it wouldn’t take much to pop in and visit papa in law,”_ the demon snickered.  _“Get answers to some of those burning questions that are just eating away at you.”_

 

Rumpelstiltskin had to admit the thought was rather tempting.

 

_“You can’t deny it’s troubling that latent noble streak ingrained in you that I haven’t been able to break.  You want to know why he treated her so shabbily, admit it.”_

 

“Shut it, you.  It’s bothering you as well,” the sorcerer scoffed.  “Belle is sweet and intelligent and far better than anyone else I saw in that entire blasted kingdom.  Truthfully, she was the only person worth saving from the ogres.”

 

 _“Yet you saved them all,”_   The Dark One said, tapping his blackened nails against his cage in disgust.  _“Because she asked it of you.  Another classic example of your desire to help your fellow man.  You’re such a disappointment.  You should have just taken her if you’d wanted her so badly and let the beasts ravage the land.”_

Rumpelstiltskin groaned inwardly and rolled his eyes as his feet carried him farther and farther away from the glen where he’d left Cora and her new maid.  “If I agree to visit the king, would it prompt you to shut up for a while?  You’re bloody well giving me a headache.”

 

The demon could feel the barely restrained rage burbling low in the spinner’s gut and it made him rub his hands together in thinly veiled appreciation.  _“I suppose,”_ he agreed, slinking back into the recesses of his prison.  _“For a while.”_

The mage sighed blissfully as he felt the darkness retreat to the furthest corners of his mind, giving him a moment’s blessed respite.  It wasn’t often that the demon would leave him be.  The evil must be truly bored if he’d relinquish its hold and give him free reign over his consciousness without interference.  The magic surged easily to his spell clever fingers and he stepped forward into the void, a wisp of crimson smoke the only sign of his passing.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

“Make sure you wash behind your ears, Bae,” Belle called out teasingly as she stood behind Morraine, gently pulling a brush through her long golden locks.  Her lips compressed into a thin line to hold back the laughter as Bae’s grumbling and splashing could be heard through the closed door.

 

The girl giggled softly.  “It’s really a dreadful shame that you have to tell him that,”

 

“I was only teasing him,” Belle grinned, meeting her eyes in the mirror before beginning to section her hair to style into a long braid.

 

Morraine yawned widely, her eyes drooping as her stepmother’s gentle touch soothed the stress away from another long day.  “He could use a little teasing every now and then.”

 

“You have a wonderful relationship with your brother.  I think it’s admirable,” Belle said softly as she ushered the girl away from the vanity and into the large canopy bed that dominated her opulent room.

 

She crawled onto the mattress and quickly burrowed under the cool sheet and heavy duvet, a tired smile curling up one corner of her lips.  “He’s my best friend … always has been.”  She yawned again.  “It was one of the happiest days of my life when he became my family.”  She reached up her slender arms and pulled her stepmother down for a hug.  “I’m glad you’re my family now, too, Belle.”

 

Belle felt blessed – truly blessed – for the first time in her life.  That something missing that had always eluded her seemed to be here in this dark castle with her wonderful new family.  She’d had no idea when she’d made her deal with the Dark One that her life would change so drastically from resigned princess forced to accept what fate handed her to happy wife and mother.  She brushed Morraine’s fringe of bangs to the side and pressed a soft kiss to her brow.  “I’m happy to be part of this family, too, Morraine.”  She smoothed the blankets over her daughter and snuffed out the candle on the bedside table.  “I’ll see you in the morning, darling.”

 

The girl snuffled softly in response as Belle made her way out of the room, and she was sure Morraine would be asleep before the door closed behind her.  All their scheming and matchmaking must be tiresome work, after all, Belle mused with a grin.  She walked the short distance to Baelfire’s door and rapped gently, calling out for permission to enter.

 

“Come in, Belle,” he said, setting his water goblet aside and climbing into bed.  His hair was still damp about the edges of his dark curls and his face was pink from the fresh scrubbing.  He yawned widely and cast her a sheepish grin.  “And you don’t have to check my ears, either.  I scrubbed them.”

 

Belle giggled and sat down on the edge of his bed, pulling the covers up over his chest.  “I had every confidence that you would.”

 

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the book tucked beneath her arm with its gold leaf lettering.  “Is it a new one you got from the bookshop yesterday?”

 

Belle rested the book in her lap, her fingers tracing the title reverently.  “No, actually.  Your papa allowed me to take it from the restricted section to read tonight.”

 

“Wow,” he breathed, his eyes widening.  “Papa never lets us take books from that section.  He must really trust you.”

 

“I don’t think it’s a matter of trust, Bae.  I’m sure he trusts no one as much as you and your sister, but he perhaps doesn’t feel you’re ready for what is described in here,” she explained, hoping the boy didn’t think his father didn’t trust him.  “He really wasn’t too keen on the idea of me looking at them either, but I think he wanted to try to answer my questions.”

 

Baelfire nodded.  “He’s trying to let you in.  That’s quite an accomplishment for him because he just doesn’t trust, Belle.  He never has … not since mama left and hurt him so badly.”

 

She laid a hand alongside his jaw and caressed his dimpled cheek with her thumb.  “I promise, Bae, I won’t hurt him.  He didn’t have to offer to marry me.  He could have demanded any manner of price, yet he chose to honor me.”

 

“No one else would have seen it that way, though.  You’re special.  I’m glad you said yes,” he murmured, his eyes growing heavy with drowsiness.

 

She snuffed out his candle and leaned over to kiss his brow.  “Me too, Bae.  Sleep well, angel.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Baelfire watched her go and sighed, contentment making him languid and relaxed, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.  He thought of how happy his papa, his sister and yes – he had to admit – even he was since Belle had come to the Dark Castle.  With a little faith, a lot of luck, and a wee bit of time, Belle would break the curse and they’d rid the demon from their home and more importantly, their father’s soul.  They would have joy … forever.  He rolled over onto his right side and burrowed under the blankets.  “Goodnight … mama.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

_“Why are you sneaking about when you could have simply magicked your way straight to his chamber?”_

Rumpelstiltskin sighed wearily, pulling the hood of his ebony cloak lower over his brow.  “What you wish to accomplish with magic can just as easily be obtained through stealth.”

 

The Dark One arched a brow and tapped his nails against the bars of his cage.  _“At least I’m not the one standing in the courtyard looking like a bloody idiot talking to myself,”_ he snickered.  _“You just don’t realize the fun to be had if you’d just let yourself embrace the power I can give you.”_

 

“Thanks,” the sorcerer said with a roll of his eyes as he slipped through the shadowed servant’s entrance near the kitchens, “but no.  All magic comes with a price … lesson number one in training with the Dark One.  I will not do something and have my family pay that price.  The small things I use magic for to make our lives easier should more than make up for your need, but I will continue to be cautious with the larger bits that are necessary for our deals.”

 

 _“I was rather surprised at that splendid display you put on tonight for the miller’s daughter.  Perhaps you’re not completely hopeless,”_ he snarled.

 

The mage snorted and silently crept through the kitchens, carefully making his way into the palace proper.  He had to agree that the art of magical transportation, that high he got from slipping through the void, was one of the most exhilarating aspects of his power, but there were also benefits to cunning and stealth.  As he moved through the palace, keeping far back into the shadows, he listened avidly for any idle gossip he might find of interest.

 

Why was he even doing this when he could have returned home to his Belle and found some new way to seduce her?  Stupid demon!  He never should have listened.  However, the temptation to find out just a bit more about his bride was too strong to let pass.  Why had the king been so strict with her?  It would be that he was just an unfeeling bastard who didn’t deserve to have such a jewel as his daughter, but it could also be something far more secretive.

 

His nails dug into the mortar and brick of the stone walls between two tapestries and he climbed swiftly, his superior strength leant him by the curse carrying him high up into the rafters as a group of four knights rounded the corner and entered the corridor where moments before he’d been standing.  He crouched low on the beam and listened attentively as their voices reached his ears.

 

“Well, at least the poor bloke didn’t have to stay that way forever,” one man said, shaking his head.

 

Another shuddered.  “Gaston didn’t deserve what he got.”

 

“No, he deserved much worse,” said a third.  “The Dark One could have drawn and quartered the bastard right there in the middle of the council room.”

 

“Those are some harsh sentiments against your superior, Everard.  Sir Gaston was merely trying to protect the princess against the fiend.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes narrowed on the group, his talons curling into fists as he watched them from his perch.  “So, the lummox has returned to his human form,” he mused.

 

“ _You should have killed him when you had the chance.  It’s not wise to let word of your mercy spread throughout the realm.  All because of your promise to your little fledglings_ ,” The Dark One spat disgustedly.

 

“You’ve heard stories of the Dark One, Twyvern.  He never breaks a deal and if you’re desperate enough to make one with him, you’d best look to holding up your end.  The princess saved us all, and made a great sacrifice to do so,” the first soldier replied.  “None of us would be here if not for the actions of that noble lady.”

 

“She sold herself as his whore,” the second hissed acidly.  “You can dress it up as prettily as you like, but there’s no disguising the truth.  She had a good man and threw it all away to make herself look like a hero.  Now she has to let the beast rut with her until he’s had his fill.  Mark my words … he’ll send her back used, abused and good for nothing more than the brothel at the edge of the kingdom where no man worth his name will tred.”

 

With a loud crack of his fingers, the four men were enveloped in a thin blue light, their bodies frozen in time.  The Dark One cackled in the spinner’s ear.  “ _It doesn’t seem that everyone thinks their princess was such a noble lady_.”  He reveled in his host’s pain upon hearing his wife so disparaged, delighted in the rage coursing through his borrowed body as he waited for him to lose the firm grip on his control.

 

Rumpelstiltskin drew in a deep shuddering breath as the red haze of fury receded from his vision and he could think clearly once more.  He couldn’t break his promise to his children and kill the man below him, no matter how much every fiber of his being screamed for him to do so.  Belle would not appreciate harm coming to one of her countrymen – no matter how much he may deserve it – and it would effectively break their deal to boot.  No, he couldn’t kill him … but there was nothing to say he couldn’t die at another’s hands.

 

With a giggle and a lazy wave of his hand, he transformed the lackwit into a snail and released his fellows from the freezing spell.  His lips curled up in a feral grin as he heard one of the knight’s boots crunch down on the gastropod.

 

“Ugh!  Where did that come from?  And where did Marvo disappear to?”

 

“The servants need a firm talking to, as well.  Snails in the palace corridors. Gads!”

 

The Dark One banged his head several times on the bars of his cell.  _“Pathetic!”_

 

Rumpelstiltskin curbed his anger and set off with a wisp of magic towards the king’s private chambers.  It wouldn’t be a good idea should he come across any more like the unfortunate Marvo.  He was still of the firm opinion that his wife was the only thing in Avonlea worth saving and would have happily given full control over to the demon to lay waste to the entire land if he could have looked her in the eye come morning.  It wasn’t often that his rage consumed him to the point of wanting to surrender to the darkness, but now was clearly one of those times.

 

He settled himself on one of the beams near the ceiling just outside the king’s bedchamber and used another harmless freezing spell on the palace guards who stood watch over their sovereign.  Now the fun would begin.  He wouldn’t harm Belle’s father … she’d never forgive him, he was sure … but there was nothing saying he couldn’t toy with the bastard.  Closing his eyes, he searched out traces of his little dearie.  Places where she’d felt joy, happiness, contentment and finally … fear.  The north tower reeked of her pain.  That was where he would find his answers.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Maurice, High King of Avonlea, jolted awake, sweat beaded heavily on his brow.  He licked his dry lips as his eyes searched out the lavish appointments of his bedchamber for the noise that had awoken him.  Nothing seemed out of place and it took him a moment to quiet his labored breathing and calm his frantic heart.  He threw back the duvet and stuffed his pudgy feet into his slippers and drew on his robe, to trudge over to the small table where a pitcher of water and a single goblet had been set at his disposal. 

 

He drank deeply, trying to dispel the unease that churned in his gut, partaking in several gobletfuls before he succeeded.  It was then he heard it again and the sound sent icy tendrils of fear skittering along his spine.  “Belle?” he called, knowing he couldn’t have mistaken the angelic voice of his child.  His beauty – the rose of Avonlea, treasure of the kingdom – so like her mother it was a knife to his heart to look upon her.  Gods, how he missed her.  He moved to the door and out into the corridor, ignoring the guards at their posts.  They stood motionless in their duty and if they hadn’t heard the voice, he certainly wasn’t going to bring it to their attention and have them think him mad.

 

The king pulled his dressing robe more securely about his beefy frame and looked in both directions, his hands trembling as he concentrated, listening with all his might.  Again he heard her voice.  There was no mistaking it, and he followed to the right, the corridor taking him towards the castle proper.  He rounded another corner and he cursed himself a fool.  She was gone … she wasn’t coming back.  She’d been taken from him by the beast and he wasn’t likely to return her.  What good would she be if he did?  She was ruined now.  No decent man in the kingdom would have her after she’d been bedded by a monster, especially one as vile as the Dark One.

 

The princess’s melodious laughter spurred him on.  What was she doing here?  How had she returned without someone informing him?  Heads would roll come morning and the palace guards would have to answer for their actions.  His breathing became labored as he followed the sound, his steps leading him to the base of the stairwell that led up to the north tower.  Why would she be _there_?  He knew how much she hated that accursed place … the site of so many of her punishments.  Hesitantly, he placed his foot on the bottom step, wondering for the first time why he’d encountered not the first servant nor guard in his trek through the palace.

 

 _“Papa, hurry!  There’s not much time …”_ the ghostly voice whispered, the cajoling sweetness spurring him to move more swiftly.

 

She was really here, his sweet girl.  She’d returned to him, was only a few feet away.  “Belle … Belle, darling, wait!”  He didn’t want to question why she was here.  It didn’t matter so long as she’d come home.  “Belle!”

 

Her laughter was the sweetest music, her voice the softest cadence of song.  He sprinted the last few steps, his breathing ragged as he moved through the door into the circular tower room, darkness enveloping him with only the feeble light from the stairwell left to illuminate the meager space.  A chill tripped along his spine and he was forced to wrap his arms around himself to ward it off as his eyes searched through the inky blackness for his daughter.  “Belle?”

 

The king whirled about, his hand flying up to his chest to rest over his heart in fear as the tower door slammed and bolted itself from the outside, sealing him in.  His daughter’s precious laughter turned into a maniacal giggle and he knew then that the door hadn’t been the only thing to be sealed … so had his fate.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

The imp couldn’t stop the giggle that burbled from his lips, seeing the monarch quake in terror.  All the better that he know the same fear Belle must have experienced time and time again.  He really shouldn’t be enjoying it so much and had to wonder if he was slipping just a bit farther into the darkness that threatened to consume his soul.  He needed Belle … Bae … Morraine, yet the Dark One held him firmly in thrall to the task set before him, his quest for answers.

 

He giggled again as his father in law pounded on the door with his meaty fists, his voice muffled by the heavy oak door as he screamed himself hoarse for the guards to come to his rescue.  The man’s eyes darted furtively about the room, seeing nothing in the sheer blackness, but Rumpelstiltskin could see him.  He sidled up to Maurice and a tiny flame flickered to life at the end of his finger as he held it close to his face.

 

“Boo!”

 

“Ack!  Bloody hell, what are you doing here?!” the king raged, eyeing the imp with dawning terror.  “Where’s my daughter?”

 

Another twittering giggle as he paced away, an annoying grin plastered on his thin lips.  “At home of course, probably tucking the children in for the night and settling down … _in our bed_ … with a book while she awaits my return.”

 

Maurice made a strangled gagging sound at the back of his throat, his ruddy cheeks draining of all color as he thought of what his daughter must be enduring at the hands of her beastly husband.  “I heard her!”

 

“No, dearie, you heard what I wanted you to hear.  How are we supposed to have a little chat with your guards about, hm?”  In a flash he appeared before the king, his abnormally large eyes boring into icy blue, the flickering flame casting eerie shadows over his face.  The man drew back, cringing at the imp’s close proximity.  “What better location than the room which reeks of her fear, her desperation, her … terror,” he snarled.

 

He transformed the flame at his fingertips into a candle and thrust it into the man’s pudgy hands, his twittering laughter echoing through the room once more.  “Now, dearie, we’re going to play a game.”

 

Maurice shuddered as the imp snapped his fingers, the sounds of snarling and the click of talons on the stone floor reaching his ears.  He could clearly hear the threat, but the tiny flame of the candle would not permeate the shadows.  “W-What kind of game?  I have no quarrel with you, Dark One.  You’ve already taken my greatest treasure from me.”

 

The sorcerer growled low in his throat, quietly disputing the king’s heartfelt statement.  “Treasure, hm?  From what my Belle tells me, you didn’t treat her as such.  Now,” he snapped, clapping his hands, “the rules!  I’m sure you hear my little pet?” he asked, not expecting an answer.  The king’s violent shivering was answer enough.  A twirl of his hand and a light breeze, just a hint of wind filled the chamber.  “He doesn’t like the light, sire.  Make sure the flame remains alight.  Every question I ask where you do not answer, the wind will increase.  So … shall we begin?  A tame little game to help me see why you’re not going to be winning any father of the year awards?”

 

“I’ve done nothing to harm my daughter!” he spluttered, wrapping his hand about the candle to protect the flame.

 

“I can feel her pain!  Do NOT lie to me!”  The wind picked up and Maurice curled his hand closer to the flame as the beast’s feral growls intensified.  “You locked her in a tower … this tower … whenever she did something to displease you.  You may not have beaten her for her offenses, but the damage you inflicted scarred her nonetheless.  Why?!  Why would you do that?  She is kind, caring and doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.  How could you do that to your _daughter_?!”

 

“I was trying to protect her,” the king answered, lowering his gaze and hoping the wind wouldn’t gain in strength.

 

“How? By locking her away from the world? By not allowing her a moment of freedom?  What were you so afraid of?” Rumpelstiltskin asked as he paced around the man, his claws itching to rip into his flesh, to avenge his lady wife and wipe the realm of his vindictiveness and petty spite.

 

His father in law sighed, startling as he backed himself into the heavy oak door, a whimper falling past his lips.  He took a shuddering breath as the imp stalked closer.  “There was a prophecy when she was born.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin stopped midstride, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head to the side, regarding the man with his piercing gaze to see if he were lying.  “What prophecy?” he hissed menacingly.  And why the hell didn’t he know of it?  Surely, his little Belle would have mentioned it … wouldn’t she?  “Does my Belle know of this?”

 

The king shrieked in terror as the beast in the shadows bumped into his leg but otherwise didn’t make any attempt to harm him.  He could feel the heat of the flame burn his skin as he protected the flame.  “N-No.  I did my best to hide the knowledge from her and anyone else who wasn’t there when the prophecy was m-made.  The fairies –“

 

The imp snorted, rolling his eyes as his hands curled into fists at his sides.  It never boded well when those little gnats were involved.

 

“ – when they came to bestow their blessing – foretold of a prophecy.  My daughter would rid the kingdom of a great evil.  She was to be protected at all costs so that she might fulfill her destiny and save us all,” he explained, slumping wearily against the door.  “I had no idea she would have to sacrifice herself to _you_ in order to accomplish her purpose.”

 

“Her purpose?” he snarled.  “Is that how you see her?  You’re more of a fool than I’d originally believed.”

 

“I love my daughter.  I didn’t want to lose her!”  He hung his head in shame, unable to meet the imp’s eyes any longer as his guilt weighed down on his shoulders.  “I tried to raise her to the best of my ability after her mother died, but I sometimes had a difficult time showing her how much I cherished her.  I tried to give her the best of everything while protecting her, whatever my gold could provide.  I even tried to make the best match for her.  I wanted her to have a husband who could provide for her, give her a family and heirs to carry on her line.  She was to be queen!”

 

The mage’s lip curled up in disgust.  “Boy have you got your priorities in a knot.  So you believe this prophecy, that my wife was destined to rid the kingdom of the ogre’s evil?”

 

“Yes … yes, I do.”

 

A giggle trilled through the air.  “This is just delicious!  If you had listened to her when she came to you about blocking the pass through the mountains, she never would have felt she had to call upon me.  By disregarding her intelligence, you left her with no choice.  She’s a brilliant strategist … something you would have known if you’d have listened to her instead of shunting her to the side and thinking her ideas unimportant.”

 

Maurice paled, remembering vaguely the day she’d come to him with her arms laden with maps and books, trying in vain to garner his attention.  “No …”

 

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin murmured, tapping his chin with a lone finger.  “No matter, dearie.  She is no longer yours, but mine, and I assure you she will not be neglected nor mistreated in my care.”  The wind died down and the sounds of the beast stalking the perimeter of the room faded into nothing.  “Well, I can’t say it’s been fun,” he said raising a hand to snap his fingers and take his leave.

 

“Wait!” the king cried.  “Aren’t you going to let me out of here?  You can’t just leave me here in the dark!”

 

“Oh no, dearie,” he tittered.  “It won’t harm you to suffer some of the same punishment you thrust on my wife.  Turnabout is fair play, after all.  I’m sure someone will be along to let you out … eventually.”

 

The monarch’s cries of outrage filled his ears and all traces of his presence – including the candle – vanished into the ether. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, he couldn’t very well break out the scourges and flaying, now could he? He promised Belle her family and friends would be safe and unharmed. Not to mention it would have broken his promise to the children. Can’t have that, now can we? So … next chapter, Rum reflects on the true nature of the prophecy. Was Belle’s destiny really to rid the kingdom of the ogres … or something else? There’s also her price to pay for the restricted section. That should be fun (o: Thank you all so much for reading. Please leave a review … I love to hear what you think xoxoxox.


	14. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is for my darling shipperqueen … she’s in desperate need for a little fluff!!

**A/N: This chapter is for my darling shipperqueen … she’s in desperate need for a little fluff!!**

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: FEAR

 

 

“ _He was lying, Spinner.  There’s much more to this prophecy than he’s telling us_ ,” the Dark One growled ominously, the usual sarcasm and cajoling undertones absent from his voice as it whispered through his host’s mind.  “ _Why would they make a prophecy about the girl putting an end to the ogre threat?  It’s ludicrous!_ ”

 

Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes, disengaging the chime throughout the Dark Castle that would alert the children of his return.  There was no need to wake them at such a late hour.  “Perhaps the ogres were the darkest threat known to the people of Avonlea,” he suggested. 

 

“ _Perhaps_ ,” the demon agreed, “ _but those ogres led the girl to you.  How did she know to call you, hm?  She was sent to banish a great evil from the lands. Me, you fool!_ ”

 

The mage snorted and removed his cloak, slinging it carefully over the back of his chair before the fire.  “My little wife happens to be very well read.  She searched many paths before calling on me.  Stop being so bloody paranoid.”  He removed his leather gloves and laid them on the small end table.  “I don’t know what you’re so worried about.  You’re immortal.  You’ve hopped from host to host since you rose from the primordial ooze, and that requires the dagger … which,” he added smugly, “my Belle has absolutely no interest in toying with.”

 

“ _She’s playing you, Spinner.  The princess knew about the prophecy and decided to rid the realms of two evils in one fell swoop.  You’re letting your feelings for her cloud your judgment.  For once, stop thinking with your cock and look at the facts!”_

“My wife is not trying to kill us!”  His voice echoed through the cavernous hall, rebounding back to him.  He winced and rubbed a weary hand over his brow.  “My oh so esteemed father in law,” he drawled acerbically, “swore to me she had no knowledge of the prophecy, and considering the duress he was under while he was doing the confessing … I have no choice but to believe him.”

 

The demon pressed his face against the bars of his cage and pointed a long gnarled finger at him.  “ _You’re faith in your wife will be your undoing!_ ”

 

“And continuing to vex me will be yours!” he snarled, his hands clenching into fists as a wave of magic crested over him and slammed the demon back to hang limply from the cell bars.

 

“ _What the bleedin’ ‘ell was that!?_ ”

 

A crinkle appeared between Rumpelstiltskin’s brows as he gripped tightly to the back of his chair.  “It was magic.  What else would it be?” he asked softly, more than a little bewildered over the effects of that sudden burst of power.  It felt … wrong.

 

“ _It was WHITE magic, spinner!  Where the hell would you have picked that up?!  White magic has no place in the host of the Dark One!!_ ” the demon raged.  _“This is that girl’s doing!  It’s bad enough that you fight against me, and use the love of your children to keep me chained, but what that little bit of fluff is doing -”_

 

“Enough!” he breathed, just the thought of his wife chasing away every bit of the anger the Dark One had brought out in him.  He focused on her, the sweet smile she’d bestowed upon him before he’d left her in the library, the hope shining in her eyes and the sweet taste of her lips.  His breath hitched painfully in his chest in the region of his heart and a slow smile curled his lips.  She was his hope, his future and he’d be damned if he let the darkness inside him chase her away.

 

Let the demon fear her, he thought with an impish giggle.  The demon could snap and snarl and shrink away in cowardice all the while the spinner savored the light and joy she’d brought to his life.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle’s cerulean gaze flickered up to the ornate timepiece on the mantle above the hearth in the room she shared with her husband for what must have been the tenth time in the last fifteen minutes.  She sighed and glanced down once more at the book he’d given her, but the words only blurred on the page due to her distracting thoughts.  They had to be more than a little troubling if she’d lost interest in the written word.  Since their marriage, this was the first time he’d left her alone with the children.  It wasn’t that she minded.  It was what he’d brought her there for in the first place, and they were such well-behaved albeit mischievous little imps, but … she missed him.

 

“Ugh!!  What is wrong with me,” she groaned, flopping onto her back against the mound of pillows propped against the heavy oak headboard.  This was only her third night with him.  She should be worried that he’d barge into their room and demand she perform her wifely duty.  She should be worried that he’d be a beast and take his pleasure without regard for her comfort.  Yet, she didn’t have to worry about any of those things as she would have had she married the man her father had chosen.  Just the thought of his vile hands upon her person caused a violent shudder to wrack her petite frame.

 

She’d married the Dark One instead, an evil magical being purported to be the most sinister monster ever to walk the seven realms.  She should be terrified!  Yet he was so gentle with her … kind, caring, and warm.  He was nothing like the sorcerer she’d researched.  He was simply a man struggling daily to keep a dark curse from devouring his soul.  So now instead of cowering away from him in fear, she longed for his company, yearned for his embrace, and hungered to be in his presence.  If she weren’t careful, she might very well find herself losing her heart to her own husband.  She giggled.  How odd.  Nobles married for wealth, power and position … very seldom, if ever, for love.

 

Her frown deepened and she toyed with one of the little jewels dangling from her elaborate harem costume.  Love?  Did she even know how?  It wasn’t an emotion she’d been exposed to on a regular basis.  She knew duty and honor, having had them drilled into her from a young age, and she was well versed in fear.  Fear was easy; it kept her ‘in line’ as her papa was wont to say.  But love?  She couldn’t say she knew how to feel more than compassion and understanding.  She ran a hand through her long unbound tresses, wrapping one lone curl about her finger.  Would she know if she fell in love with Rumpelstiltskin?  Would it be as it was in her beloved books, all thunderbolts and passion and declarations of undying devotion?  Or would it be a gradual thing that slowly crept into her heart and made her realize she couldn’t live without him … that she didn’t _want_ to live without him?

 

The mere idea was enough to make her break out into a cold sweat and lock herself inside the safety of her room for a week.  Perhaps if she hadn’t lost her mother at such an early age, she would have had someone to teach her these things.  Her ladies had been no help whatsoever and had only made her fear the sanctity of marriage … not to mention her husband’s touch.  It was ridiculous.  Just because they hadn’t found happiness with their own matches didn’t mean they should make her fear hers.

 

Belle startled, a little shriek of surprise making its way past her parted lips as a shilling landed on her bare belly, just above her bejeweled navel.  “Rum!  You’re back,” she said.  She cursed inwardly.  _You inarticulate twit.  Of course, he’s back.  Couldn’t you have found something witty to say?_

 

“A shilling for your thoughts, pet,” he drawled silkily as he removed his dragon hide coat and laid it over the chest at the foot of the bed.  His waistcoat followed before he toed his soft leather boots off, thankful that he hadn’t worn the ones that laced up to his knees.  “They must have been rather troubling for you not to have heard me come in.”

 

She blushed under his scrutiny as his amber eyes traveled hotly over her exposed skin.  She’d removed the outer robe he’d provided, leaving only the gauzy skirt and short vest of her costume – she hadn’t needed it with the warmth from the fire - and his gaze was alight with appreciation as it took her in.  She sat up as he crawled onto the bed to sit beside her, his hand gripping her chin and turning her face up to his so he could study her more closely.

 

Butterflies took flight in her belly and a rosy blush spread over her cheeks at the first touch of his cool fingertips.  “N-No, not troubling per se,” she stammered shyly.  “Actually, I was thinking about _you_.”

 

He looked taken aback at that, which made her smile.  “You were?”

 

She sucked in a deep calming breath and dug deep for the courage buried within her, leaning in to press her lips lightly to his.  “I missed you.”

 

His face went slack in light of his surprise.  “You did?” he asked, feeling an unknown warmth spread through his chest.

 

“I did,” she admitted, gaining confidence through her resolve to be honest with him.  It was much easier than she’d thought it would be.  “I brought up some wine and fruit and some of those lovely pastries you bought at the sweet shop if you’re hungry,” she cast about for want of something to say in light of her nervousness.

 

A wondrous smile curved his thin lips as he stretched out across the bed and propped his head on his hand.  At his nod, she poured a goblet of the sparkling white wine and set the covered dish between them.  There were strawberries with clotted cream, some plump red grapes and his favorite pastries – peach tarts.  “Be careful, pet, or you just may spoil me,” he said softly.

 

Her blush deepened, this one due more from pleasure than nervousness.  “Was your deal successful, husband?” she asked, more than a little curious as to what had drawn him out of the castle that evening.  She regretted her curiosity when his eyes shuttered and she could feel him withdrawing from her.  “Or should I not ask about your business dealings?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin sighed and popped a grape into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.  “No, dear one.  Don’t be afraid to ask questions.  If it’s something I can’t speak of, I will simply tell you.”  He held a grape to her rosebud mouth, tapping gently at her lower lip until she smiled and opened for him.  “Before I answer, however, I’d like to know what you did with your evening.  Did the children give you any difficulties?”

 

Belle swallowed the fruit and took a sip of her wine.  “Not at all.  They’re wonderful, Rumpel, truly.  I already care so deeply for Bae and Morraine.  To know that you’ve entrusted their care to me … it warms my heart.”

 

“They care for you as well.  It’s not been easy for them since I became …”  His voice trailed off as he swept a hand over himself, grimacing at the green gold complexion, sharp claws and overall odd appearance.  “They don’t trust easily.”

 

She offered him a bite of the strawberry she’d dipped in the cream and he accepted it from her before the fluffy substance could drip onto the duvet.  “It’s good that they’re cautious.  Not everyone can be depended upon for their noble intentions.”

 

“You need to be cautious as well.  If you ever venture past the castle walls without my protection …”  He shuddered at the thought of her falling into some unknown peril.  “Tomorrow I will work on fashioning some sort of talisman or amulet which you may keep with you … a protection charm if you will ... in the unlikely event that you are unable to call my name.”

 

She was touched by his concern and the lengths he’d go to in order to protect her.  What pleased her most was his desire to do so without setting guards to watch her.  She was able to enjoy her freedom and still have the comforting hand of his protection surrounding her.  She shook her head to clear it of her drifting thoughts and took another sip of her wine.  “I promise to be careful, Rum.  Now … how was your business this evening.  Did you enjoy yourself at least?”

 

His laughter was rich and warm instead of the impish giggle he was better known for.  “My deals are not meant to be fun, pet.  This one was no different.”  He reached for one of the pastries, taking a bite and letting the sweetness of the peaches with the contrasting spices burst delightfully over his tongue.  She didn’t hesitate to finish off the other half as he held it out to her, a bit of the filling lingering at the corner of her mouth.

 

He tugged gently on a loose curl, wrapping the silken strand about his finger as he pulled her to him.  His eyes darted hesitantly up to hers, but he was met with nothing but warm eagerness.  He wondered if he would ever get used to her easy acceptance of him.  He moaned softly as his tongue darted out and swiped at the peach confection, continuing along her full bottom lip to nibble gently.  The flavor of the pastry combined with her own sweet taste was enough to make him dizzy.

 

Belle sighed against his lips as he broke the kiss to lean his brow against hers, the churning pleasure in her belly growing.  “I think you’re trying to avoid the subject, Rumpelstiltskin,” she chuckled.

 

He laid back on the bed and pillowed his head on his arms, regarding her steadily through half-hooded eyes.  He wasn’t in the habit of sharing his exploits with others, but his Belle wasn’t just anyone.  He found that he didn’t mind sharing with her, having someone to confide in who wouldn’t judge him.  “Very well, pet.  I met a woman named Cora who had found herself in a rather sticky situation.”

 

Belle removed their light repast to the bedside table and stretched out beside him on her side, resting on her elbow so she could look down at him, listening attentively.  He told her the entire tale, leaving nothing out and she listened with varying degrees of surprise, horror and finally relief.  “Do you think she will fall in love with him, that she can find happiness with him?”

 

“I think so,” he nodded, grinning up at her.  She was looking at him like he were one of her books and the thought amused him.  It wasn’t to last, however.  “I … ah … have a confession to make,” he said, lowering his gaze.

 

She tilted her head to the side, a wrinkle appearing between her auburn brows.  “What’s wrong, husband?  You look as if you’re afraid I’m going to scold you for some misdeed.”

 

The fact that she was grinning seemed to set him more at ease and it was with a teasing tone and a crooked grin of his own that he said, “You might.”  He took a deep breath and forged ahead.  “I saw your father.”

 

“You did?” she asked, her eyes widening with alarm.  “How is he?  Did he ask about me?  Is he well?”

 

“Slow down, pet,” he said softly, hoping his mild tone would reassure her.  “He is well.  I promise, I didn’t harm the blighter.  I merely wanted to ask him a few questions while I was in the general vicinity.”

 

“It never occurred to me that you would try to harm him, Rum,” she said, running her hand over his chest, her fingers toying with a button on his shirt.  “I trust you.”

 

He stared at her, awe filling his large amber eyes.  “Why?”

 

“You’ve never given me a reason not to.  I’ve never heard of the Dark One breaking a deal before, so why would you break one with me?” she asked simply.

 

“You’re not just a –“ he cut himself off before he revealed too much, looking away, but it was too late.  She latched onto his broken statement like a wolf with fresh meat.

 

“Not just what?  Rumpelstiltskin, are you saying you care for me?  That I’m not just a deal to you?” she asked, scooting closer to him as her hopeful gaze bored into his.

 

His eyes closed as he nodded, even after all they’d revealed to one another over the last few days he didn’t want to trust that he wouldn’t see rejection in her sky blue eyes.  He slipped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close to his side as his other hand covered hers, pressing it tightly to his chest, over his heart.  “Yes,” he murmured, his lips brushing lightly at her temple.  “So much more, little wife.”

 

Belle shivered, her throat tightening with an unknown emotion she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge.  “Rumpel …”

 

“Shh …” he whispered, not wanting to break the spell that seemed to have caught them up in its web.

 

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized just how difficult that must have been for him to admit.  As difficult as it was for she herself to admit.  They were two damaged souls thrown together by fate in a desperate bid to save one another and her heart soared as she realized she wanted it more than anything she’d ever wanted in her entire life.  But now was not the time for heartfelt confessions when they were both so vulnerable, both so afraid to leave themselves open to heartache.

 

She opted to change the subject, her curiosity getting the better of her.  “What did you and my father have to talk about?”

 

“I was hoping he could give me some insight into your fears.  I admit I wanted to know why he was so strict in your upbringing.”

 

Belle shot him a pointed look, her frown deepening as she looked down at him.  “He was just trying to protect me, Rum.  I was his only heir … or so he believed … it was his duty to assure nothing horrible befell me before I could assume the throne, I’m sure.”

 

A muscle twitched in his jaw as his teeth gnashed together.  “Apparently, it was more than that,” he growled, outrage over the king’s ill treatment of her humming just beneath his skin.  He levered himself up against the pillows and rested his head back against the headboard, surprised when she moved onto his lap. 

 

She sucked in a sharp breath as his hands splayed against the bare skin of her stomach, but took comfort in his touch.  “T-Tell me.”

 

“He told me of a prophecy made about you when you were born.  Do you know of it?” he asked cautiously, tilting her chin up to study her face, searching for any signs of deception.

 

She shook her head.  “No.  He must be mistaken, husband,” she snorted dubiously.  “There’s nothing special about me.  Why would anyone make a prophecy about an ordinary girl from some provincial little kingdom?”

 

His long fingers trailed through her chestnut locks absently as he sought some way to explain what he’d discovered.  “Belle, I assure you, there is nothing ordinary about you.  Your father told me when the fairies came to bestow their blessing upon you, a prophecy was made that you would banish a great evil that would threaten your kingdom.  That is why he strove to protect you so diligently.”

 

A tear slipped over her pale cheek and he reached up to brush it away, distressed that he’d caused her upset.  “Well … he succeeded in that at least, didn’t he?” she murmured sadly.  “He protected me so well, he forgot to love me.  He should be happy that I fulfilled the prophecy and saved his precious kingdom, yeah?”

 

He’d been right not to listen to the demon’s fears that she’d known all along.  There was no way she could have been so honest in her grief if she’d known.  “Shh … pet, it’s alright.  I can’t say that I’m sorry things worked out the way they have.  You saved your kingdom and I gained a wife.”

 

Her lips quirked up in a rueful smile.  “Well … when you put it that way,” she chuckled.  “I just wish things could have been different between us, that he wouldn’t have been so cold and unfeeling.  Rum, do you think he ever really loved me, or did he only ever see me as a tool to be used for his own gain?”

 

Rage welled up inside him over the injustice of it all and he held her closer.  “How could he not love you, Belle?  You are everything that is good and right with the world.  He would have to be a fool not to see that.” 

 

She glanced up at him curiously.  “I find it hard to believe that he would just willingly volunteer such information to you.”  He pressed a kiss to her nose, and glanced away sheepishly.  Her eyes narrowed on him.  “What did you do?”

 

“Um …”

 

“Rumpelstiltskin, did you turn him into some inanimate object as you did Gaston?”

 

“No!” he answered a little too quickly.

 

“Rum …”

 

“Well,” he shrugged.  “I may have left him locked in your tower.”

 

“What?!” she cried, not sure whether she should be amused or horrified that he’d do such a thing.

 

He sighed, making up his mind finally to be completely honest with her.  “I lured him to your tower and put the fear of the Dark One in him to make him answer my questions.  I’m sure someone’s come along to let him out by now.”

 

She turned in his arms, surprising him when she straddled his thighs and wrapped herself around him.  She pressed her brow to his and nuzzled her nose against his own.  “Thank you.”

 

“For locking your father in the tower?” he asked, somewhat surprised that she had a bit of a mean streak.

 

“No, silly.  For being honest with me.  You don’t know how much that means to me.”  She pressed little kisses over his face, smiling against his skin as a little rumbling sound emanated from his chest that she could only liken to a purr.  Her fingers toyed with the buttons on his shirt, freeing one after another until she could slip her hands inside over the warm skin of his smooth chest.

 

“I will always be honest with you, dear one, if this is the response I receive from you,” he said a little breathlessly.  Heat surged through him and the muscles in his stomach clenched beneath her artless touch.  He was desperately trying to keep a tight rein on his desire, knowing they wouldn’t proceed past a little heavy petting.  She caught his lower lip between her own, nipping gently, and he groaned, his hands tightening perceptibly at her waist.

 

A blush stole over her neck, spreading upwards into her cheeks as she met his gaze.  “I enjoy touching you,” she muttered shyly.  “Is that wanton of me?”

 

Pleasure sparked at every one of his nerve endings upon hearing those softly uttered words, never having thought she would enjoy that aspect of their relationship.  He knew his appearance was frightening, yet this extraordinary woman found him pleasing to her senses.  His hands delved into her hair, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past her parted lips to taste the honeyed recesses of her mouth.  Only when the need for air burned his lungs did he reluctantly release her.  “You cannot imagine how much it pleases me to hear you say so.”

 

The last button slipped free of its hole, but his hands covered hers before she could push the silk off his shoulders and bare his torso to her hungry gaze.  “What’s wrong?” she queried.

 

“Belle, you don’t want to see that,” he mumbled anxiously, the unusual pallor of his skin darkening over his cheekbones.  If she didn’t know any better she would think he was blushing.  “You don’t have to –“

 

“I want to,” she insisted.  “I want to see you.”  Despite his reservations, he dropped his hands to the duvet, silently acquiescing to her wishes and allowing her to push the fabric over his shoulders.  Her eyes lit with appreciation as the shirt slipped down his arms and revealed wiry muscles flexing with tension beneath toned flesh.  In her eyes, he was perfect.  He was made for her.  She had always been on the petite side and he was just the right size, just a few inches taller than her so as not to overwhelm her.  Other men of her acquaintance had intimidated her with their bulk, but not her husband.  She fit perfectly in his arms and it just made her desire him all the more.  “Beautiful.”

 

His lips parted on a gasp of surprise and she pressed her advantage, claiming his lips once more as her nails scratched lightly at his nape, the pads of her fingertips delighting in the texture of gooseflesh as it erupted over his skin.  “ _My_ Belle …”  His hands ghosted over her sides, tentatively acquainting himself with the softness of her skin as he tried in vain to hold tightly to his control.

 

 She cradled his face in her warm palms, her thumb brushing reverently over his lips.  He shivered and she felt her nervousness melt away to be replaced by a confidence she couldn’t remember every experiencing before.  It was the same feeling she’d had the previous evening when he’d given her control over him in his workshop.  She shifted restlessly on his lap, gasping softly as her core came in contact with the hard ridge of his cock barely restrained in the tight leather.  His pupils were blown wide with want and she could sense the need coursing through him as if it were her own … because she felt it too.

 

She drew in a fortifying breath as his thumbs brushed against the undersides of her breasts, the heat of his touch burning through the fabric of her top.  She knew what he wanted and a battle waged within her as she wondered if she would be able to give it to him, wondered if she could find the courage to bare all to him

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Aren’t I just awful to leave you hanging here until next week? All that lovely UST to torment you until the next installment. Well, my word count was climbing and I try to keep these chapters consistent. I promise to be back next week with more (o: So sorry I didn’t get this posted last night. I got a migraine and couldn’t finish it. Hope you all enjoyed it. Please don’t hesitate to let me know what you thought. Also, our FB group … Rumbelle for the Win … created a new fic in our Round Robin event called “Chipped Cups and Chipped Hearts”. It’s really cute if you’d like to have a read. It’s available on both ffnet and AO3.


	15. Pleasure

 

Rumpelstiltskin’s head fell back against the pillows, tilting to the side as he regarded her steadily, wondering over the little giggle that bubbled from her pale ivory throat.  “Something amuses you, pet?” he asked warily, fighting against the impulse to cross his arms self-consciously over his chest.  He couldn’t remember the last time … if ever … he’d bared his unusual flesh to anyone aside from the children during their silly rituals they’d performed trying to break his curse.

 

Her eyes were alight with humor, her smile warm and genuine without the slightest hint of mocking scorn as she leaned in to nibble softly at his lips.  Apparently, his little wife had no reservations about kissing.  If only she would be as eager to move their physical relationship a step forward, he mused.  “I just find it odd that you would be nervous to tell me what you’d done to my father.”

 

The corner of his mouth twitched, the gesture flickering between a grin and a grimace.  Finally, he shrugged.  “No man wishes to court his wife’s displeasure.”

 

Her features softened even more as her arms slipped around his neck to hug him warmly.  “You stood up for me, Rumpel.  No one’s ever really done that for me before.  You didn’t harm him … only frightened him a bit …”

 

He pressed his brow to hers, his nose nuzzling against her own with affection.  “He didn’t hesitate to frighten you, dear one.  I figured turnabout was fair play.”  His fingertips caressed the smooth curve of her jaw, lifting her face up so he could drop a kiss to the corner of her mouth.  “I never want you to be frightened again, my Belle.”

 

She kissed him back, basking in the warm security of his embrace.  “I never have reason to be frightened as long as I’m with you.”

 

He searched her gaze, his thin lips curling into a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.  “Aye, pet.  I’ll never let anyone harm you.  I only want you to know happiness, joy … pleasure,” he murmured, his blackened nails scratching gently against her bare lower back and causing a delightful shiver to course along her spine.

 

“ _I swear, spinner, if you begin waxing poetic with the chit, I may lose my dinner all over the floor of my cell,_ ” the Dark One snarked.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake would you go away!” he raged silently.

 

“ _Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”_

 

“Rum, is something wrong?” she asked, shifting on his lap.  Her foot bumped the book she’d been reading and it slid off the mattress, landing on the rug with a soft thud.  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, horrified that she’d been so careless.

 

“It’s no matter,” he murmured, avoiding the first part of her statement.  He didn’t want his arguments with the demon to intrude on his time with his wife.  Instead, he focused on retrieving her book.  He held his hand out, palm down and willed it into his hand, flipping it over once it seemingly adhered itself to his flesh, and presented it to her.  “Did you find it interesting?”

 

Belle’s fingers twisted themselves into knots, her lips pursing into a thoughtful moue.  “I found it … illuminating, shall we say.  I had no idea of the parallels between white and dark magic.”

 

He sank further into the pillows, throwing one arm up behind his head as he regarded her curiously.  “Just how much did you read in the short time I was away?”

 

She blushed prettily as she took the book from him and opened it to the spot she’d left off, the page very close to the end.  “I read rather fast,” she admitted sheepishly.  “It was fascinating, though.  I suppose you’ve read it?”

 

“I have,” he nodded, amused by her enthusiasm.

 

“I didn’t realize that just anyone could learn magic.  I’d always thought one had to be born with some inherent gift for the craft … or that the most powerful magicks were fueled by emotion …” her lilting voice trailed away and she buried her face in her hands.  “Ugh!  I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

 

He arched a brow at her, mirth dancing in his amber eyes.  “Doing what, pet?”

 

She shook her head, bemused with herself.  “I have a tendency to run off at the mouth when talking about books.  It’s one of my many flaws,” she chuckled, closing the book and setting it on the bedside table.

 

“I don’t see it as a flaw.  It shows you have a passion for knowledge and learning.  That isn’t a flaw nor a waste of time and you have a full library at your disposal to fuel that passion.”

 

A coy grin curved her rosebud mouth.  “Speaking of the library, husband … I believe I have a price to pay?  Surely, you haven’t forgotten our deal?”

 

The sorcerer closed his eyes against the loud clang that reverberated through his skull as the Dark One threw himself against the bars of his cage, his hands reaching and grasping in a ‘gimme, gimme’ manner. “I haven’t forgotten, pet,” he whispered, all manner of unscrupulous requests flashing through his mind.  He pushed them all away, reinforcing the wards around the area he kept the demon caged.  It sapped more and more of his strength of late to keep the darkness at bay, but he’d do what was necessary to protect those he loved.

 

“Belle …” he began, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from her brow.  “You don’t owe me anything.  It was a game … nothing more.”

 

Belle bit her lip thoughtfully, knowing how much he thrived on his deals.  “I quite enjoyed our game, Rum, and I think it only fair that you are _rewarded_ for showing me your restricted tomes,” she fairly purred, running one lone finger along his cheek.

 

He shivered as he reached for her hands, his long fingers curling over her wrists as he laid them gently on his chest.  “Touch me, Belle.  Share your light with me,” he murmured, looking up at her through half-hooded eyes., desire, need … hope, shining in their depths.

 

“M-My light?  What do you mean?” she asked, delighting in the way his smooth skin felt beneath her hands.

 

His thumbs drew teasing circles over her hips as her fingers splayed over his chest, his lips parting on a gasp of pleasure to have her touch him so willingly.  “You warm me from the inside out, dear one.”

 

Her eyes widened as she traced over the lines of muscle in his chest, alternating between the soft pads of her fingers and the blunt edges of her nails.  He twitched slightly as she moved over his ribs, not having expected him to be ticklish.  She hadn’t lied when she’d told him she thought him beautiful.  He really was, she mused, watching the play of gold beneath his skin as the soft candlelight caught on it and made it glitter.  His back arched as her light touch moved over the taut plane of his stomach, the muscles clenching and contracting as the breath hitched in his chest.

 

An awed smile lit her entire face as she took in his wrecked visage, never having seen him so vulnerable and open.  Not even the previous evening when they’d explored one another in his laboratory had he looked like this.  “Do you like that?” she queried, her fingers worrying the flesh just above the waistband of his leather trousers.

 

He nodded jerkily, his hips bucking involuntarily beneath her, his eyes darkening with carnal desire as he met her gaze.  “Yes, my little wife.  Good … so good.  Don’t stop.”

 

She gnawed at her lip as a little furrow appeared between her brows.  “Rum … I don’t really know what to do,” she muttered, removing her hands and toying idly with a bead on her bejeweled top.

 

He cocked his head to the side and merely smiled.  “Do whatever you like, my Belle,” he muttered a little breathlessly.

 

She took a deep breath and then another, shying away helplessly.  “That’s just it, Rumpel. I don’t _know_ what I like _or_ what you like.  I’ve never done this before and I -”

 

He clasped her hand loosely in his and brought it to his lips, kissing each of her fingertips as he used the other to brush a long curl behind her ear.  “Relax, pet,” he soothed, trying to allay her fears.  “You need to stop trying so hard to be perfect.”

 

So many years of trying to please her father, hard lessons ingrained in her since childhood, were too hard to just brush aside.  “I don’t want to disappoint you.  I want to make you happy.”

 

He gathered her in his arms and held her against his chest, smoothing his hands over her back.  “Belle, you _do_ make me happy.  I never thought … I never thought I’d have a wife again or the intimacy we share.  Especially considering the way the curse makes me look,” he added bitterly.  “I want you to take your time … take the time to explore and enjoy learning this aspect of our relationship.  Nothing you do could possibly disappoint me.”

 

His eyes drifted closed as she scratched her nails lightly along his nape, a pleasant shiver traveling along his spine.  He opened them again to find her watching him curiously.  Realizing she had his undivided attention, she leaned in and brushed her lips to his, surprising him as she sucked gently at the soft flesh.  His arms closed around her and a low rumbling sound emanated from his chest.

 

“Could we … do you think perhaps …” she stammered shyly.

 

“What is it, pet?  Don’t be afraid to tell me what you want,” he murmured huskily, his lips trailing a hot path over the smooth curve of her jaw to nip lightly at the pulse point beneath.

 

She gasped, heat coursing through her veins like molten fire, her belly clenching as everything she was feeling settled between her legs.  “Last night …” she moaned.  “What we did last night … in your laboratory.”  Her fingers fisted in his soft hair as he moved lower to lave over her collarbone and tease the hollow of her throat with his tongue.  “I want to do that again,” she whispered breathlessly.

 

“Belle …”

 

“I do, Rumpel … please.  I love what you make me feel.  I want more,” she said, her eyes bright with honesty and courage to attain her desires.  “With you I am safe and warm and so happy … inside and out.  You make me feel alive in a way I never knew was possible.  I trust you.”

 

A broken sound, somewhere between a sob and a whimper, tore loose from his throat as he felt the walls protecting his heart crumble to dust as he buried his face against her neck.  It was in that moment, her light enveloping him, and her heartfelt admission, that he knew he was falling in love with her.  The demon snarled, retreating to the farthest reaches of his mind, unable to bear the purity springing forth from the girl in his host’s arms, never having felt the sensation permeating through every pore.  For once, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t have to fight so valiantly for control over his own body, his own heart, and more importantly … his own soul.

 

He could feel her body, quivering with tension and trepidation, despite her brave words as he rolled her over onto her back and stretched out beside her, his hands cradling her face as he claimed her lips with all the tenderness she deserved.  His touch was reverent, gentle and fraught with emotion as he sought to show her what he didn’t feel capable of putting into words.  He vowed once again to bring her only happiness, only joy and pleasure, to chase away her fears and protect her unto death.  She was a part of him now.  She filled up the other half of his dark heart that hadn’t already been claimed by his children and he knew he’d rather die than lose her.

 

His little wife trusted him; made him _feel_ like a man instead of the monster he was.  Unlike last night, when his velvety tongue slipped between her parted lips, hers was there to meet it to duel sinuously with his own, to taste, to … devour.  Desire surged through his veins with white hot intensity and he groaned softly as he felt his cock stir to full hardness.  His eyes gleamed with amber fire as he pulled back to take in her flushed cheeks and kiss swollen lips, one lone finger tracing along the edge of her bodice where it revealed the gentle swell of her breasts, pale and glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration in the lamp light.

 

Slowly, he lowered his head, his lips hovering over the gold clasp between her breasts which held her bodice together.  She gasped as his lips touched her heated flesh, her back arching beneath him as she sought to get closer.  His tongue darted out to taste her, the salty sweet tang of her sweat ambrosia to his senses.  She stilled, tension returning to her body as he fingers deftly released the clasp.  His gaze flitted up to hers and he could see the fear returning to her wide eyes.

 

“Do you want me to stop, pet?  Shall I leave you now, wanting and writhing with no hope of completion?” he teased, once again tracing the line of her bodice, this time over her ribs, his thumbs brushing along the sensitive undersides of her breasts.  “Are you still so afraid of me, dear one?  Do you not know I would never hurt you?”

 

A little whimper escaped her throat where she could taste the metallic twang of fear at the back of her tongue, the low register of his silky voice just as arousing as his touch, and she found she wanted more.  She wanted to be brave and find out what other delights he might have in store for her.  She nodded jerkily, word failing her as she ran her hands tenderly over his bare arms, her hands covering his where they rested on her ribs before lifting to peel the edges of her bodice away, baring herself to him.

 

Her eyes closed, her cheeks flushing crimson, and he pressed a quick kiss to her lips.  “Don’t be afraid, pet.  Look at me,” he commanded softly.  “If I do anything you don’t like, tell me immediately and I will stop.  If you become frightened or alarmed, I will stop,” he said with calm assurance.  His warm palm covered her left breast and she gasped, the breath hitching in her throat.

 

Belle buried her face against his neck, pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss to his flesh where his neck met his shoulder as the callused pad of his thumb brushed lightly over her nipple.  She cried out helplessly, never having felt anything like it before, the sensation sending a white hot spark of pure pleasure straight to her core.  He circled it with his sharp nail and her hips shifted of their own accord, seeking something, anything, which would give her a bit of relief from the ache building between her legs.

 

Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t help but feel a small measure of pride that he’d evoked such a reaction from her.  They’d been so compatible in all other areas of their relationship thus far, why not in the bedroom as well?  He was forced to admit to himself … he’d been fearful himself about what would happen when he would finally be allowed to have her beneath him.  Milah had never hesitated to proclaim him a failure in the bedroom.  Belle’s response to him clearly proved that he’d just needed _her_.  She was his mate, the other half of his soul and no other would ever compare.

 

His precious little wife let out a long keening moan as the flat of his tongue rasped over her right nipple.  He jerked his head up in surprise and sent out a burst of magic to soundproof the room and lock the doors.  They didn’t need another incident of the children creeping up on them and witnessing … something they had no business seeing with their young eyes.  He smiled wickedly, nuzzling his nose against her sensitive flesh before he claimed his prize once again, his long spinner’s fingers continuing to tease the other.  He suckled her gently, thriving on the little sounds of pleasure she made in the back of her lovely throat.

 

Belle’s wild chestnut curls spread out across the duvet in a tangle as her head thrashed from side to side, never having felt anything so intensely pleasurable in her life.  She didn’t begin to wonder where the pillows had gone and couldn’t say she really cared.  The only thing that mattered to her in that moment was her husband’s hot mouth and his roving fingers playing her body like a finely tuned instrument.  Her fears were slowly melting away beneath his touch, so gentle and reverent and careful she could have wept and she wondered how she could ever have been afraid of something that felt so good.

 

Her hips bucked beneath her as his lips and teeth and tongue lavished her breasts in attention, each nip, lick and suckle invoking more heat to unfurl in her belly, more of the ache to build in her core until she was a quivering mass of tension and desire.  Her fingers delved into his hair, fisting tightly as she held him to her, afraid he would let her go and she wouldn’t find an end to the blessed torment, a moan rumbling low in his chest as she scratched lightly at his scalp with her nails.

 

She tried to lift her leg, to wrap it about his hip, to pull him closer only to find out she couldn’t move, the voluminous skirt he’d dressed her in trapped between them.  She wanted to howl in frustration!  “Rum … Rum, please,” she groaned breathlessly, reaching for a handful of the gauzy garment to free herself.

 

“What is it, pet?” he breathed, giving a long lick to the valley between what he thought were the most perfect pair of breasts he’d ever seen.  He scooted down further, pressing kiss after hot wet kiss against the smooth flat plane of her belly.  His tongue swirled around the aquamarine gem in her navel and a tingle of pleasure radiated from the small of his back to travel up his spine.  He’d waited hours to do that.  From the first moment the gem had winked at him from the little dip of her belly, he’d wanted to remove it with his teeth.  When she didn’t answer him in a timely fashion, his darkness emerged just the tiniest bit and he sent a jolt of magic straight down into her core.

 

He regretted that decision immediately when she nearly yanked a fistful of his hair out.  He yowled, jerking his gaze up to hers.  “Ouch!”

 

She giggled.  He arched a brow.  She giggled again at his look of affront.  “I’m sorry,” she panted, still overwhelmed with the heat racing through her. “I-It just felt so good … so good, Rum …” She pulled at her skirt again until she was able to free her left leg and she didn’t hesitate to wrap it about his hip, her little heel rubbing pleasantly against his leather clad arse.  She canted her hips up, the muscles in her leg tightening perceptibly about him as she sought to press him more firmly to her, to feel him through the filmy material of her skirt and the thin leather of his trousers.  Why were they even still dressed, she mused, a furrow appearing between her brows.

 

“Tell me what you want, dear one,” he purred, his rich velvety voice sending another random wave of pleasure to the apex of her thighs.

 

“M-More.  I want more, Rumpel,” she cried, wanting to pound her fist into the mattress as he slipped lower to press kisses around that damned gem.  She was tempted to rip it out herself and hurl it across the room if it would bring him back up the length of her body so she could kiss him.

 

His head popped up, the gem clenched tightly between his teeth as he smiled triumphantly, presenting his prize to his lady wife.  She giggled and tugged on his shoulders, his hair, anything she could reach to show him what she wanted.  He spit it out and it bounced across the duvet as he smirked, his eyes blown wide with lust.  She could have very easily lost herself in those amber pools.  She arched beneath him again as he kissed his way back up her body, stopping to linger at her breasts, lavishing them once more with attention before nipping at her collarbone and dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat.

 

He felt nearly giddy with pleasure as he finally claimed her mouth and settled between her thighs, grinding his turgid length against her throbbing core.  He’d never hated leather as much as he did in that moment, but he didn’t want to press her to give him what he wanted.  He didn’t want her frightened and fearful.  He wanted her writhing and panting beneath him, enjoying all the new sensations that only he seemed capable of making her feel.  She was his wife; she’d promised him forever and a day.  There would be time for everything later.  Hopefully later would come before he died of unrequited yearning, but he’d take what he could get.  His Belle and her comfort mattered more to him than his cock.

 

Then, when he didn’t think he could be more surprised by her willing responses, she hooked her foot behind his knee and pushed against his shoulder, effectively flipping him onto his back.  He landed hard against the mattress – did the stuffing need to be replaced? – the breath knocked from his lungs.  She straddled him before the darkness at the edge of his vision cleared, her lips searching out his own, her tongue – soft, hot, sinuous – gliding into his mouth to flutter and taste, devouring, claiming. _Hers!!_  

 

His hands slipped beneath her layered skirts, ghosting lightly over the outside of her slender thighs, drawing little circles over her hips.  With a thought, her lacy knickers vanished, leaving her hot and slick, dripping over the supple leather that hid him from her view.  He swore he could feel her heat burning through them as if they weren’t there.  She moaned into his mouth and he swallowed the sound as if it were the most flavorful wine.

 

And then she was breaking the kiss, her mouth a perfect ‘o’ of surprise as his fingers slipped past her folds to be enveloped by her wetness.  He could feel her body tensing and he knew it wasn’t from pleasure.  “Belle,” he whispered her name softly, moderating his tone, hoping it would allay her fears and keep her calm.  “Tell me what you feel, pet.  Does it feel good?  Relax, little love.  Concentrate on what you feel and tell me …”

 

Belle bit her lip and pressed a palm to his chest to steady herself as his thumb flicked over the little bundle of nerves above her opening.  Her breathing hitched, caught in her throat as a wave of pleasure surged to every nerve in her body.  “Gods!” she cried, her hips bucking against his hand as he slipped a finger into her tight sheath.  “I feel … it feels …” her nails sank into his flesh and he winced.  “Sooooo good.”

 

He propped himself up on an elbow as he crooked his finger within her and rubbed delightfully against a spot that had her keening, her head thrown back and her mouth open on a silent scream.  His lips teased over her throat until he reached the shell of her ear.  “I can make it even better, pet,” he purred silkily, never ceasing his movements, but not gaining in intensity to bring her to her peak.

 

“H-How?” she panted. “Not …?”

 

“No, dear one, we’re doing just fine without that, don’t you think?” he asked, nipping at the little spot behind her ear that always seemed to make her moan.  “Trust me.”

 

“I do,” she cried, groaning pitifully as he removed his hand and laid back against the mattress.  He too was wondering where their pillows had gone at this point.  With a flourish of his wrist he banished his leathers, leaving himself bare beneath her and he reveled in her little gasp as her core came in contact with his naked cock.

 

A rumbling moan echoed in his chest at the first touch of her slick flesh to his throbbing member.  She stared down at him through wide fearful eyes, frozen, scared to move.  He settled her skirts around them, affording her that last bit of modesty he knew she wasn’t ready to yield as he slipped one hand between them and spread her folds over him.  She gasped, her eyes fluttering closed as the blunt head of his cock came in contact with her clit, a shiver radiating up her spine as she gave in to the pleasure.

 

“You are in control, pet.  Do what you will.  I’m yours,” he said, giving himself over to her.  He was a willing canvas, ready to become her masterpiece.  She could take her pleasure and be done with him, or take him with her. It was her choice.

 

That precious pink bottom lip of hers which he cherished, disappeared between her teeth as she raked her nails over his chest.  “I-I can do anything that you did to me?” she asked timidly, uncertain with the new power she wielded over him.  He arched beneath her, his cock engorging further as she brushed the soft pads of her thumbs over his flat nipples, the breath hissing out between his teeth as she pressed down on them.  “You … like that?”

 

“Yes!” he growled, his hands straying to her hips to fist in the sheer covering.  “Touch me, pet.  Anything you do, I know I’ll enjoy it.”

 

A slow smile spread over her lips, never having felt so free, so powerful.  He was hers to do with what she wished and she had no fear of retribution should she do something he didn’t like.  He was willing to let her explore him, to bring _him_ pleasure, to know him as no other ever had.  She leaned over and rasped her tongue over him, scraping her teeth against the small bud.  He howled his pleasure as she jerked her gaze up to his to see the desire rampant on his weathered features.

 

She then knew how he’d felt when he was exploring her body.  His pleasure was her own and her folds fluttered against his cock, some instinct urging her to move. He moaned as her nails scratched lightly just beneath his belly button.  His hands tightened on her hips, but it was her own will that made her move against him, her slick folds sliding sinuously over his throbbing length, each shift and slide bringing the head of his cock in direct contact with her clit.

 

Her breaths quickened as did her pace, his hands on her hips keeping her grounded, guiding her when she felt her strength flagging, her thighs burning as she felt the exquisite pressure build in her womb.  Her eyes never strayed from his, watching, waiting to fall … to fall together.  “Belle …” he moaned, bucking beneath her as her folds sucked at the length of his shaft, pulling him closer.  He could feel his balls drawing up, closer to his body and he knew he wouldn’t last.  “Please, pet.”

 

He reached between them, searching and finding her little nub of pleasure and gave it a gentle pinch.  Her cry echoed throughout the room, reverberating off the walls and bouncing back to him as his body tensed beneath hers, his fluids mingling with hers as they reached their peak together.

 

Belle collapsed against his chest, his arms wrapping around her bare back as she buried her face against his neck, her hand rising to tangle in the ends of his hair as she fought to steady her labored breathing, tremors along her spine leaving her trembling in his embrace.  He pressed tender kisses along her brow, his eyes slamming shut as wave after wave of white hot pleasure radiated through his aching body.  Even the Dark One was silent for a change.

 

She sighed against his throat and littered it with kisses before lifting her gaze to his to smile.  “We’re a mess,” she said, wrinkling her nose.  But nothing could erase the happiness shining in her eyes.

 

One of his impish giggles made its way past his lips as he hugged her tighter.  “I can fix that.”  A quick snap of his fingers had the bed set to rights, their skin as clean as if they’d just stepped out of the bath and his little wife swathed in a soft cotton nightgown and him in a pair of sleeping pants.

 

She snuggled into his embrace, her chin resting on his chest as he pulled the duvet up to cover them.  “You’re wonderful,” she murmured “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

 

He nibbled gently at her bottom lip.  “Always, pet,” he yawned, tucking her more securely against his side and closing his eyes.  “Always.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Poor Belle … I wonder if she’ll ever be ready. Soon, if they keep on this way. I think her curiosity will win out over her fear rather quickly. And who knew Rumpelstiltskin had the patience of a saint? *lmao* My darling shipperqueen has requested for the next chapter that Belle have some fun exploring him the next morning and then some fun times in the bath. I think we can do that *smirks*. I really hope you all enjoyed this installment. Please review!! Love and hugs to you all, and I’ll see you next week!!


	16. Magic's Price

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: MAGIC’S PRICE

 

 

It was still early when Belle woke, a slow smile curving her lips at the warm weight of her husband against her back.  Her eyes fluttered open, searching through the semi darkness for the timepiece on the mantle.  Eight fifteen.  The children would surely be up at this hour, the little imps.  She knew Rumpelstiltskin would want to sleep for a bit longer, especially after his late night activities, but her body thrummed with energy.  She longed to be up and moving.  Perhaps she could go downstairs and have breakfast with her children and then come back upstairs to wake her husband, she mused.

 

Carefully, so as not to wake him, she eased herself out from under his arm, scooting to the edge of the bed.  She’d nearly made it, one leg thrown over the side, when his hand snaked out and twisted in the soft cotton of her nightgown.  “Where are you going, pet?” he rumbled sleepily.

 

She hauled her leg back up onto the mattress and let him tug her back over to him, smiling against his lips as he kissed her tenderly.  “I’m just going to make sure the children have their breakfast and see them off to their studies.  I promise to return before you’re ready to rise from bed.”

 

He nodded, yawning widely and buried his face back into the pillow.  “Bring tea.”

 

Belle giggled softly and bounded from the bed, pulling on his dressing robe as she searched for her slippers.  She held the collar close to her nose and breathed in his warm earthy scent as she left the room and closed the door quietly behind her.  His scent made her stomach quiver with excitement and she was forced to hug the robe about her just a bit more tightly.  She moved quickly down the corridor, memories of the past evening springing up in her mind to keep her company.  Giddiness seemed to bubble from her pores as she followed the route to the kitchen that seemed to be getting easier for her to remember.  Soon she wouldn’t need the torches - which sprang to life with every step - to guide her.

 

Her heart sang with happiness.  In all her life, she’d never felt this way.  And it was all because of her new family.  She remembered the fear she’d experienced when the ogres were creeping ever closer to the palace, the knot of unease in her belly when she realized she’d have to call upon the Dark One.  The fairies had been of no help.  Her research had proven fruitless.  He’d been the only one to answer her summons with any measure of hope.  Even the surprising level of attraction she’d felt for him – more than a little surprising to say the least – hadn’t been able to banish her fears of how they would deal with one another. 

 

He’d listened to her – something she couldn’t even say about her own father, more’s the pity – he’d seemed to appreciate her logic concerning what could have been done beforehand to save them.  Apparently he’d appreciated her so much, he’d chosen to ask for her hand.  Yet, she still couldn’t help but wonder what she’d ever done to deserve him.  He wasn’t some dark entity who fed off of magic in a quest for power as she’d been led to believe.  He was a man – a wonderful, warm, kind, caring man – forced to share his body and soul with a curse.  Bae had told her he’d been branded a coward.  How could anyone think him a coward?  The courage he must have had to cause himself personal injury or to face down the previous Dark One … those were not the actions of a coward. 

 

Rumpelstiltskin could have been cold and unfeeling towards her, and instead, he’d shown her gentleness and patience she knew she would never have received from another man.  Her stomach flip flopped and a secret little smile toyed with her lips.  He was so wonderful, she thought dreamily.  Then reality came crashing down upon her.  She was being selfish and spoiled.  Would it really be so horrible to suffer a little pain if it would bring her husband pleasure?  Women had been doing it for centuries with no ill effects.  What made her think she was any better than they?  And to have that ache which longed to be filled finally appeased …

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Two weeks later …

 

Rumpelstiltskin cast a burst of magic towards the hinges on his bedroom door and eased it open – thanking the Gods when it didn’t squeak - poking his head through the opening and breathing a sigh of relief to see his precious little wife sound asleep in their massive bed.  His hair was still damp and the blood in his veins felt like tiny shards of ice from his dip in the frozen lake.  The Dark One was more than a little peeved with him for his little sojourns in the frigid waters.  The magic used to seal his deal with Belle was demanding its payment.  He’d agreed to banish the ogres if she’d marry him.  Apparently the magic wouldn’t be satisfied until the marriage was consummated and there was no way he was going to force himself on his wife.  She meant too much to him.  The magic, however, wasn’t concerned with its wielder’s wishes.  Magic … price. NOW!! It wasn’t inclined to wait.

 

He eased himself onto the mattress, his body aching.  Even the soft cotton sleeping pants he wore seemed abrasive tonight.  He wasn’t sure how much more he could stand.  The Dark One sniggered softly in the back of his mind.  “ _If you’d just take her already, spinner, you wouldn’t have to suffer.  She’s yours.  It’s just sickening to watch you sniff after her, play with her and not slake your needs.”_

 

He turned on his side so he could take in her sleeping countenance.  Her lips were parted on a soft snore, her long lashes forming little crescent moons on her alabaster cheeks and her dainty hands folded innocently beneath her chin.  “I’ll not harm her or frighten her.  I will wait,” he insisted silently.  “The magic will be satisfied eventually.”

 

Pain was nothing new to him.  If he’d survived nearly fourteen years with his mangled and twisted ankle, he could surely survive his oversensitive skin.  He groaned as the soft cotton of his trousers rubbed against his cock.  It felt like tree bark!!  He could live with her scent tickling his nose where he could smell nothing but her sweet floral fragrance.  Gods, he wanted to bury his face in her hair and stay there.  He wasn’t even going to contemplate the intoxicating musk of her arousal.  Too bad she froze up every time his mouth got anywhere near the apex of her thighs. Damnit!!

 

He flipped over onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes, breathing in deeply through his mouth.  He could survive the way her lilting voice sent a shiver trilling along his spine, her dulcet tones husky in his ear, her breath fanning hotly against his skin.  Fuck!  Lust surged through him with white hot intensity and he scowled down at his manhood tenting his trousers.  He rolled over onto his other side, facing the crackling fire in the hearth, blocking out the Dark One’s sniggering laughter as he concentrated on the sight of the flames licking at the cedar logs.

 

He was going to make it, he thought with a smirk, his eyes becoming heavy with the weariness that seemed to be his constant companion of late.  Granted, he received nearly as much pleasure as he gave to his wife, but the magic merely brought it back moments after one of their interludes.  The more he played with her and didn’t take her maidenhead, the more the magic demanded it.  It was wearing on him, but he held steadfast to his desire to be patient with her.  He was stronger than the magic … he was Rumpelstiltskin, the all-powerful Dark One, the deal maker, the trickster imp.  He would make it through this.

 

Belle shifted restlessly in her sleep and he held his breath … sending up a silent prayer to any deity that might be listening.  They _weren’t_ listening.  She scooted closer to him, pressing her warm little body flush against his back, her hips cradling his backside, her soft breasts crushed against his chilled skin.  His lips were turning blue from lack of oxygen as he waited for her to settle, finally releasing it after a minute or so.  He sighed and nestled down into the pillow.  Just as sleep was about to claim him, she threw her arm over his chest and scratched lightly at his left nipple, her face pressing into his neck to drop a little kiss just behind his ear.  He nearly bit a hole in his lip to force himself to remain still.

 

He wasn’t going to make it.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle hid a huge yawn behind her hand and stretched languorously, her cerulean eyes fluttering open as she smiled up at the ceiling.  It was becoming a natural occurrence for her to wake with a smile on her rosebud mouth, something that had happened less frequently when she lived at her father’s palace in Avonlea.  There, she’d woken every day to face the same routine … wake, bathe, dress, breakfast with her father, tea with her ladies, sit in and listen to her father’s subjects as they presented their requests for aid, entertain dignitaries who had business with the king, sneak off to the library, dinner with the court, tea with her father and then bed … only to wake the next morning to do it all over again.  She’d thought she’d be doomed to that monotonous existence for the duration of her life.  She snuggled against her husband’s back and sighed deeply with contentment.  Now she woke to a new adventure every morning, never knowing exactly what the new day would bring.

 

Her heart sang with happiness and it was all because of her new husband and his - _their_ \- wonderful children.  Baelfire and Morraine scolded her when she joined them for breakfast in the morning, insisting she needn’t come down until their papa woke.  Apparently, they enjoyed their solitude in the mornings, preferring to have luncheon with their parents, after their lessons.  Rumpelstiltskin had agreed, rather liking the idea of spending the morning in bed with his wife.  He’d disappear after they all shared their midday meal, usually to his laboratory or off on one of his deals.  Sometimes he’d join them all in the library.  She was looking forward to when spring would arrive on their mountain and spread its lush verdant hand over the land, turning everything green again.  She missed being out of doors and she had an abundance of ideas for family outings to share with her family.

 

For now she would have to be satisfied with long wintery days before a warm cozy fire.  Satisfied indeed, she thought with a smile as her husband snuffled softly in his sleep, his back nestled against her.  She bit her lip as she propped herself up on an elbow and peered over his bare shoulder where it peeked out from beneath the blankets.  She would be the first to admit she had more than a mild fascination with his unusual skin and the way the firelight danced across his lean lines, making it more gold than green.  He was so beautiful, whether he cared to realize it or not.

 

Her nose nuzzled softly behind his left ear and he snuffled in his sleep, his hand automatically reaching for her behind him.  His arm settled over her hip and his features relaxed once more.  She was still for a few moments, but she couldn’t seem to banish the playfulness that surged through her.  She’d missed him last night.  It was the first she’d spent in the Dark Castle since her marriage where he hadn’t come to her before she’d fallen asleep.  Surely, it would have had to have been something important for him to come to bed so late, she mused thoughtfully.  She’d missed his touch – the heat and passion they shared before sleep each night. 

 

Belle let her hand drift idly down his arm and back again, moving onto the smooth plane of his chest as she pressed her thighs together, feeling her lower belly writhe with the first stirrings of arousal.  She’d never been quite so bold in the morning before, associating their pleasure with the late hours of the evening, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d enjoy such activities upon waking to the bright light of day.  It wasn’t as if they didn’t find some excuse to kiss throughout the day, to touch, to find themselves in a steamy clench behind a tapestry, she thought with a tiny giggle.  They were getting better at hiding from the children for their tender moments, but Morraine was rather good at seeking them out when she wanted something.

 

He was warm under her fingertips as she caressed his unusual skin, reveling in the smooth feel of him.  She wondered if she should take advantage of his slumberous state to explore more of him.  When they were together, he devoted so much of his attention to bringing her pleasure, he very seldom allowed her to do the same.  It was almost as though he were afraid to let her hands and lips linger too long.  Once again, she felt guilty.  He was so good to her and yet she still hadn’t been able to let go of her fears.

 

Her husband murmured softly in his sleep as her nails scratched lightly at his right nipple, a small furrow appearing between his brows.  “Mm, Belle … mine … my Belle.”  She smiled, her lips curving warmly against his skin as she nuzzled his ear.

 

“My Rumpel,” she whispered, her breath fanning warmly over the shell of his ear.

 

He sighed in contentment and drifted pleasantly back into slumber.  Her eyes darkened from bright sky blue to something more akin to cobalt as desire pooled hotly in her belly.  She couldn’t explain why he was the only one who’d ever brought out such strong feelings of attraction within her, but she wasn’t about to let it deter her.  He wasn’t only pleasing to her in face and form, but mind and heart as well and she sent up a silent thanks to the gods for blessing her with him.  Her fingers skimmed along his ribs and over the muscles of his stomach, which contracted beneath her touch, the breath stuttering in his chest before whooshing past his parted lips on a breathy sigh.

 

Belle hummed softly as she splayed her fingers and pressed forward with her palm, sliding it over his bare abdomen and then drawing it back with her nails curled downward.  His pulse leapt beneath her lips and she grinned, the gesture altogether wicked and quite unlike her.  Apparently he brought out the mischievousness in her.   She raked her nails over his belly again, this time a bit lower, just beneath his navel and she bit her lip as she noticed the noticeable bulge tent the duvet.

 

 _Well that was definitely a step in the right direction._   She slipped out from beneath him carefully, so as not to jar him enough to wake and pushed the silken coverlet off of him so she could peruse him at her leisure.  This was her chance, an inner voice whispered encouragingly.  Her chance to see him without anything between them, not her skirts or long nightgowns, not the duvet or darkness.  She could satisfy her curiosity of that one part of him she’d yet to see and if she were careful, she might be able to accomplish the feat without him waking.

 

She pushed the long skirt of her pale gold nightgown out of the way and straddled his thighs, her fingers twisting tightly as she stared down at him, debating on whether or not she should forge ahead and give in to her desires.  He’d always welcomed her advances – timid as they were – in the past.  Why should now be any different?  Screwing up her courage, she reached out, her fingers closing over the silken cord which laced the front of his sleeping pants together.  Her eyes flitted up to his face as she gave the cord a gentle tug.  The breath whooshed out of her – not having realized she’d been holding it – and she couldn’t suppress the triumphant little giggle that burbled up in her throat.

 

Belle hadn’t realized the depth of her patience when she truly wanted something, carefully pulling the cord through each eyelet until it came loose in her hand.  She tossed it over her shoulder, not really caring where it landed as a rosy blush stole into her cheeks and she reached for the edges of his trousers to peel them back.  The anatomy books in her papa’s library had never prepared her for this, she mused, her eyes widening.  Again her eyes rose to study his face, satisfied that he hadn’t woken to find her ogling him.

 

She tilted her head to the side and leaned closer, running one lone finger over his shaft from root to tip.  She drew in a stuttering breath and covered her mouth to muffle her gasp as he twitched beneath her wandering hand.  She touched him again and watched him lengthen even more under her fingertips.  He was long and thick and … was it supposed to be that color?  She frowned, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.  It was darker than the rest of him and rose proudly from a nest of wiry curls to lie nearly flat against his belly.  He let out a little whimper as she wrapped her hand around his cock, testing its weight in her hand.  _This is supposed to fit inside me? Dear Gods!!_

 

Belle pushed that thought aside before her anxiety was allowed to take flight in her chest and send her running to her own room.  She wasn’t going to let her fear hinder her any longer.  It wasn’t fair to either of them.  She tightened her grip almost imperceptibly and stroked him, fascinated by the way his skin moved over his rigid length.  It was soft – softer than anywhere else – and she wondered if he’d allow her to kiss him there as she’d done to the rest of his body.  Her hand stilled as he shifted restlessly, a deep throaty moan rumbling in his chest.

 

She flushed, wondering what he would do if he woke and found her in her current position.  She decided she’d take her chances, her hand sliding down further over his balls to cup them gently.  Her face heated as desire coiled deliciously in her belly, realizing just how much power she held over him in that instant.  It was her decision … pleasure or pain.  She knew, without a doubt, which she would choose.  Her head dipped closer to him, her breath warm and sultry against his skin as she wondered if his skin would feel as soft beneath her lips as it did against her hands.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

“ _Spinner_.”  The Dark One tapped his nails impatiently against the iron bars of his cell.  “ _Oh, Spinner_ …”  He nearly howled as the girl wrapped her lips about the head of his host’s cock.  He was joined to every nerve ending in the body he shared with Rumpelstiltskin and it was the most pleasurable torture imaginable to have her hot little tongue swirling over the silken head of his manhood.  How the bloody shite was he even able to sleep through this??  “ _For fuck’s sake, wake up!  You’re missing it!!”_

The mage groaned inwardly as that cursed voice rattled through his sleep drugged brain.  “I can bloody well hear you without the damned shouting.  What is –“  He gasped, nearly choking on his tongue as his eyes snapped open and focused on Belle, every synapse shooting sparks of need through his body.

 

She let go of him with a slight pop as her head swiftly rose to meet his startled gaze.  She colored vividly.  He didn’t know a human being could turn that shade of red, quite frankly.  Her lips were parted, her eyes dark and her breath deep and rapid.  He laid there, frozen into immobility, afraid if he moved she would bolt.  Yet that was exactly what she _should_ do.  His cock engorged to the point of pain as he stared at her, his heart pumping a rapid tempo against his ribs as it pushed every drop of his blood southward.  He could feel the magic racing through his veins, feeding on his desires, demanding – _commanding_ – to take what belonged to him.

 

A single bead of moisture pooled at the head of his cock and he groaned.  She needed to move away from him … now!  He didn’t want to take the chance that he’d lose control and hurt her.  The magic made him unpredictable at the best of times.  He didn’t want to think of what it would make him do at his worst.  “Belle …”

 

She lowered her eyes, peeking up at him through her lashes and … he howled as she swiped her tongue over the silken head, dipping into the crease so as not to miss a drop of his essence.  The Dark One chortled with unadulterated glee as he lunged through the bars, his hands grasping at air.  _“Take her, claim her, fucckkkk her, Spinner!!  She’s yours!!  Take what she’s clearly offering you, fool!”_

Rumpelstiltskin’s lust filled gaze darted to the bedroom door, the archway to his sitting room and finally on the door to their bathing chamber, seeking desperately for an escape.  Anywhere that she wouldn’t follow.  With the last shred of his control and an apologetic quirk of his lips in her direction, he disappeared in a wisp of crimson smoke, leaving her there alone in their bed, bewildered and more than a little hurt by his rejection.

 

“Rumpel?” she called.

 

He could hear her as he stood shaking in the bathing chamber, his limbs tremoring with the effort it took to control the magical overload ravaging his body.  The demon shrieking through his mind wasn’t helping in the least.  It merely cursed and cajoled him to return and finish what his little wife had started.

 

“Rumpelstiltskin?!” she called again.  Oh gods! He thought helplessly.  He could clearly hear the unshed tears in her tone.  By trying to save her from himself, he’d hurt her.

 

Thick billowing steam escaped the tub where it filled with hot water, the warm mist heating his skin as he stood there holding his pants up with one hand.  What had possessed her to do such a thing?  He’d never asked her to do that, and he certainly didn’t think her ladies would have ever thought to explain such an act to her.  He did a quick inventory of the contents of the library, knowing there hadn’t been any books in there like that which his children would have access to.  Had she purchased something tawdry when they’d visited the bookshop?  Maybe a misleading title?

 

He gave a little yelp as the door banged open and his wife cast her watery gaze up at him.  “W-Why did you leave?” she asked tremulously.  “Did I … did I do something wrong?”

 

“What? No!” he insisted, shaking his head.  “You were doing everything right, pet, but I just …”

 

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, her fingers twisting themselves in knots as she stared at him, more than a little confused.  She took a hesitant step forward and he took three back, holding up a hand to ward her off.  She looked like a siren emerging from a mist shrouded lake and he didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep himself from lunging for her and taking all she had to offer.

 

“Stay back … Belle, I’m not … not safe right now.  Please, please, please, don’t come any closer.”

 

“Y-You don’t want me?” she stammered, her mouth falling open in stunned disbelief.  “I don’t believe that!  From the moment you brought me home, you’ve done nothing but show me how much you enjoy touching me.  How … Why are you acting this way?”

 

Her eyes narrowed in on him, taking note of his strange behavior, but it was more than that.  His eyes were nearly black with desire – not that she needed to see that to clue her in when his erection was just as proud as it had been before he’d left their bed, his hands doing little to hide it – tiny tremors wracked his body and she knew it had nothing to do with the chill that constantly permeated the castle.  He was keeping something from her … again.  She felt a bit hurt.  They’d agreed to be honest with one another that night in the laboratory, and she didn’t like it that he’d gone back on his word, not one bit.

 

“Why didn’t you come to bed last night, Rum?” she asked, taking another step forward.  She didn’t care if she had to back him all the way across the room and into the other door.  She wasn’t about to give up on him.  He took another step backwards and then stopped, standing his ground.  


He sucked in a sharp ragged breath that nearly choked him as her hands splayed over his chest.  He jerked reflexively under her touch as his brows arched in a pleading look, begging her for what – he wasn’t even certain anymore – to touch him more or leave him be.  “Belle, dear one, please, just stop.  I can’t bear it just now.”

 

She chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip as her hands slid upwards, making sure they swept over his taut nipples as they made their way up and around his neck.  He shivered as she pressed her breasts into his chest.  He growled a low warning as she nipped lightly at his rapidly beating pulse just beneath his jaw, all of which she ignored.  “What if I don’t want to stop, husband?” she purred silkily, teasing his heated flesh with her tongue.  “You told me you wouldn’t take me until I was ready, remember?”

 

He nodded jerkily, his neck cracking in protest.  He winced at the sound, but focused all his attention on what she was trying to tell him.  Please let him have heard her correctly.  It would be a cruel cosmic joke if she was telling him one thing and he was hearing another.  “Yes!” he gasped, letting go of the grip on his trousers to wrap his hands over the soft swell of her hips and drag her closer until his arousal was pressing hotly against her lower belly.

 

Belle delved her hands into the soft hair at his nape and twirled a lock about her finger as she dragged his mouth down to hers.  “I want you, Rumpel.  I want to know what it feels like to have you inside me.  I want –“

 

She didn’t need to say anymore.  The beast within him howled in satisfaction as his mouth crashed down to cover hers, his tongue pushing past her velvety lips to entertain the hot cavern within.  He plundered, devoured, explored every crevice he knew would have her moaning her pleasure.  “Belle … are you sure?  You know I won’t touch you unless you’re absolutely certain,” he rasped out, his throat raw with the control he was exerting over his own body.

 

A rosy blush crept up her neck to settle in her cheeks as she took a step back – only as far as his grasping hands would allow – and pushed the thin straps of her nightgown over her shoulders, baring herself to him from the waist up.  “I’m sure, Rum.  I want you … all of you.”

 

A tremor of desire started at the base of his spine and traveled up and outward until he was vibrating with need.  He kept his dark amber eyes trained on her lovely features, searching for any signs of rejection as he briefly let go of her.  The gown slid over her hips to pool at her feet in a whisper of silk and then she was back in his arms.  He lifted her and bore her to the plush padded bench – one of many – that littered the chamber, laying her down gently.

 

“I promise, little wife, you will feel no pain … only pleasure.  No matter what I have to do, I _will_ make this good for you,” he vowed.

 

And despite her lingering hesitancy, she knew one thing for certain … he never went back on his word.  She took a deep breath, reveling in the desire coiling in her belly, and reached for him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please don’t kill me!!! I’m sure you will flood my inbox with threats and no doubt send the angry mob to my door, but I try to keep the chapters a consistent length and well … would you believe I ran out of space? I promise a nice conclusion next week, loves. I do hope you enjoyed it. A little UST never hurt anyone, right? I’d love to hear what you think, so please review, yeah? Thanks so much for reading!! See you next week!!
> 
> For those of you following Another Chance … yeah, still working on chapter 20. I promise to update as soon as it’s finished. Real life totally interfered with my writing this week.


	17. Bathtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a smutty chapter. Consider yourself warned, dearies :D

Belle let out a little squeak as his body blanketed hers on the roomy bench, her back pressing into the plush softness.  She had never seen him act this way before and she had to admit she was more than a little frightened.  Never had she believed him to be a monster, despite his beast like qualities due to the curse, but in his current state, she was tempted to rethink her previous statement.

 

He’d never been so rough.  His hands seemed to be trying to touch her everywhere at once as they roamed freely over her bare skin.  She couldn’t say it was unpleasant, just a bit overwhelming.  His teeth grazed the side of her throat, her shoulders, and nipped the tender flesh of her collarbones.  A delicious curl of desire coiled in her lower belly as he thrust his hips against hers where he rested between her thighs and a little moan sounded low in her throat.  Yet it wasn’t enough to distract her from the fear tightening her chest.

 

“Rum … Rumpel, stop please!  You’re frightening me!”

 

The growling sounds emanating from him continued, his magic pressing against his skin, making him itch.  He needed more touch, more contact, more Belle … MORE!  She’d given her consent finally and the single thought echoing riotously through his mind.  Everything else was pushed aside as he was overwhelmed by her … her scent, the softness of her skin, the deliciously sweet musky taste of her … his Belle.  He should have gotten his first clue that something was amiss from the snicker echoing through his mind, the Dark One softly chanting something he couldn’t quite make out.

 

He couldn’t however, miss the little whimper that fell from Belle’s kiss swollen lips.  He drew back in horror to see his claws wrapped tightly about her wrists, restraining her as he’d never done in their previous encounters.  Her eyes were wide with fright, her lower lip quivered and her body was stiff with terror.  Oh Gods!  He’d done the one thing he’d promised he’d never do.  He released her instantly, a choked sob lodging in his throat as he landed on his bare feet beside the bench, crouching in shame like the beast he was.

 

“ _You are such a failure, spinner.  For eons I have had one host after another to bring unmitigated terror to the masses and you_ ,” the Dark One scoffed, “ _you can’t even take a simple woman_.”

 

“This is your fault, isn’t it?!  What did you do to me … what?” he wailed at his nemesis.  “She’ll never want me now … now that she can truly see what a monster I am.”

 

He couldn’t even look at her, his shame so great.  “I’m sorry!  Oh, Belle, no … I’m so sorry!” he cried, his voice thick with remorse.  One more sin to add to countless others.  “I didn’t mean –“

 

Belle sat up, her face crumbling in sadness as she gazed upon her husband, so broken, his handsome green-gold face hidden by his hair as he bowed his head. She slid off the bench, her limbs shaky and awkward beneath her, but one thought spurred her on … the desire to comfort her Rumpel.  “Shh,” she soothed, her hands reaching up to cradle his face in her warm palms. 

 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, pet,” he whispered, his eyes still downcast.  How could he have let himself frighten her after all the time he’d spent trying to soothe away her fears?

 

“It was just too fast, Rum.  You just … you simply overwhelmed me, is all,” she murmured, a rosy blush coloring the apples of her cheeks.  Her fingers slid up into his soft hair, and she pulled him against her, his face coming to rest in the crook of her neck.  “It’s ok … we’re ok.  Rumpel …”

 

“Stop trying to polish it, pet.  I’m a monster.  I pawed you like the beast I am,” he said bitterly, making no move to touch her, his hands clasped tightly together against his thighs.  “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you –“

 

She clasped her hands around his wrists, her nails digging into his skin.  “No.  No, Rumpel, you’ll do no such thing.”

 

Finally his gaze rose to hers, incredulity shining in the amber depths.  “Belle,” he cajoled.  “Dear one, no, I won’t subject you –“

 

Belle wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers gently kneading at his nape.  She chuckled softly.  “Rumpelstiltskin, I still want you.  That hasn’t changed.”  She pressed her brow to his, her nose nuzzling against his own.  In some ways it was more all-consuming than a kiss to be connected to him in such a tender way and she reveled in it.  “I just need you to be a bit gentler, a little more patient?”

 

He didn’t want to tell her of the magic riding him so fiercely.  Later, when it had been satisfied and he was fully in control once more … then he would tell her.  Not now.  “Tell me what you want, dear one.  I’ll do anything you ask.”

 

She arched a brow at him.  “Anything?  Did you just say anything?  Rumpel, that is the first rule of deal-making and you just threw it out the window.”  She reached up and smoothed her fingertips over his brow, staring worriedly at him.  “What’s wrong?  I know something is bothering you.  You know you can tell me anything.”

 

“ _Go on, spinner, tell her.  Then this whole grand romance you’ve been spinning will be nothing more than a pity fuck!”_

“My wife would never –“

 

“ _Care to test that theory?_ ” the Dark One chortled.

 

Rumpelstiltskin gnashed his teeth, forcing the demon farther back.  He didn’t want anything to intrude upon his time with Belle.  “It’s fine, pet … trust me.”  He cringed as he felt the words slip from his tongue.  Here he was acting like a beast and hiding the truth from her … sure, she had every reason to trust him.

 

“I trust that I can see right through you, husband,” she murmured gently, urging him to his feet as she stood up.  She tried in vain to keep the blush off her face as his gaze swept over her body, but realized it was pointless.  “Come with me.  Let’s have a bath and perhaps you’ll calm enough so we could … um … continue?” she stammered, leading him over to the edge of the sunken marble tub.

 

Rumpelstiltskin shucked his cotton trousers and spluttered incoherently as he followed her through the curls of steam and into the tub, the hot water a soothing balm to his battered senses.  “You wish to … continue?”

 

“Of course I do.” Belle glanced at him over her shoulder and smiled warmly as she led him over to the middle of the pool.  Her feet slid over the textured bottom of the tub, confident she wouldn’t slip until she reached the flat marble slab at its center where a small fountain burbled.  Five little crocks of soft soaps, each a different scent, waited there, provided by her husband, as well as an assortment of sponges.  She bypassed the rose and lavender soaps she normally used in favor of the three she hadn’t tried.  One smelled of rich sandalwood, another of lemongrass, but she couldn’t quite identify the last.

 

She dipped her finger into the crock and shot him a curious look.  “It’s shea butter and goat’s milk,” he said, ducking his head.  “My skin is … the soap keeps my skin from being too coarse,” he admitted ruefully.  “I usually mix it with the sandalwood.”

 

“And perhaps a little magic?” she asked, taking note of what appeared to be tiny flecks of gold in the substance as she scooped a little from each crock and lathered it onto the sponge.

 

He stood perfectly still as she brought the sponge to play against his skin, beginning with his shoulders.  “My magic seems to go into all my creations, pet.  Sometimes whether I wish it or not.”

 

His eyes were heavily hooded as he watched her work, her delicate hand wreathed in soap bubbles as she dragged the sponge over his chest.  He rumbled happily, feeling the tension begin to drain from his body.  Never before had he had anyone bathe him, not even Milah … especially not Milah.  She’d been a bit too selfish in her own needs to ever want to see to his.  His little wife skittered around behind him, the steaming water lapping at her waist as she vigorously set to scrubbing his back.

 

“Feeling better?” she hummed, tossing the sponge onto the raised marble and using her hands instead to knead gently at his flesh.  She smiled, cupping water in her hands and rinsing away the soap.  She wrapped her arms around his waist as he hummed his agreement, her fingers trailing over the flat plane of his stomach.  “Tell me why you ran from me this morning,” she whispered softly.

 

He shivered as her warm breath met his wet skin.  “I … ah … I don’t know?”

 

It wasn’t like him to be so hesitant, so unsure of himself.  That was her job.  It had taken her so long to find her courage and still it failed her at times.  She wouldn’t let it fail her now, however.  She was tired of running, tired of being afraid of the wealth of emotions that breathed with a life of its own between them.  No longer would her fears keep them from having what they both wanted … each other.  “I think you do, Rum.” 

 

Her fingertips ghosted over his shaft as it stood proudly, pressing against his lower belly, and he jerked reflexively into her touch. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking him gently as she peppered his back with the lightest of kisses.  “Tell me why you ran, husband,” she insisted.

 

He whimpered softly, using all of his control not to thrust up into her hand as she used the other to scratch lightly over his chest, her thumb brushing back and forth against his flat brown nipples.  “Belle …”

 

She raised up on her toes and nipped sharply at his nape.  “Tell me.”

 

“I was afraid,” he panted, reaching behind to curl his hand over her hip, pulling her more tightly against him.  His other hand covered hers over his cock, rocking his hips into her touch.  “A-Afraid to hurt y-you.”

 

“Why?” she breathed, enjoying the power she held over him.  He was the most powerful being in the realms and yet he gave himself over to her care, trusting her not to hurt him.  She knew how much it must cost him to do so, and it thrilled her to have his trust when he’d never given it to another.  “How could you ever think that you’d hurt me, Rumpel?”  She released him and moved around him until she could face him.  “And don’t you dare tell me ‘because I’m a monster’,” she said, pitching her voice high in his impish tone.

 

Rumpelstiltskin gaped at her, trying his best not to laugh at her mockery.  She pushed at his shoulders, urging him to kneel before her, and he acquiesced quickly, unable to deny her anything.  Her hand slipped around his nape to support him as she wet his hair.  His arms wrapped around her back and he pressed his face in the valley between her breasts, giving in to her completely.

 

She reached for more of the soft soap, working it through his hair, her nails scratching pleasantly over his scalp.  He melted into her and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction course through her that she’d made him relax.  When she was done, she asked again.  “Why were you afraid, Rum?”

 

He pulled her down to kneel next to him so he could show her the same care she’d shown him, tipping her back over his arm so he could wet her hair.  He frowned down at the angry red marks he’d left on her throat and collarbones.  “I want you so much, pet,” he murmured, lowering his head to lave his tongue over the marks, making her gasp as the heat of his mouth closed over her flesh.  “I want so badly to bury myself inside you,” he whispered, nipping tenderly at her ear, his cheek pressed to hers as he held her for a moment, simply relishing his body pressed so tightly to hers.  “I want to bury my head between your soft thighs and taste you … and I’m so afraid of losing control and hurting you.”

 

Belle trembled as he reached for her rose scented soap and began to work it methodically through her long dark hair, his touch gentle and almost reverent.  She waited until he was done and had begun on her body before she answered.  “I’m not one of your treasures, Rumpelstiltskin.  I’m a bit sturdier than that.  I won’t break, but … I need you to let me touch you too.  Don’t hold me down like before?”

 

He rinsed the soap from her body, leaving her skin glistening in the lamp light and he groaned as he buried his face against her belly, his hands smoothing over the gentle swell of her arse.  “I promise,” he vowed between hot open mouthed kisses around her belly button.  She was so honest, so brave to tell him exactly what she wanted from him.  She rested her trust at the feet of a monster and he would die before he disappointed her.  “You _are_ my treasure, my sweet precious wife.”  He scored her with his teeth, drawing a deep moan from her throat.  “Tell me what you want, pet.  Tell me and it shall be yours.  You have my word,” he murmured, his lips never leaving her skin as he trailed a searing path over her ribs, his tongue darting out to lick over the underside of her breast.

 

“Make love to me, Rumpel,” she breathed.  “Make me yours.”

 

Fiery magic swept through his body at those softly uttered words, and it left him breathless to fight it back.  It would be appeased, in his own time.  He would not let it conquer him and bring harm to his Belle.  He lifted her in his arms and hefted her onto the marble slab, ceasing the flow of water from the fountain with a flick of his wrist.  She bit her lip as she watched him with a mixture of avid curiosity and desire in her eyes, her pupils blown wide.

 

She squeaked in alarm as he hooked his hands behind her knees and drew her forward until her arse rested at the edge of the slab, excitement battling with her arousal as she felt the pressure building in her belly.  His soft palms, his callused fingertips, his burning touch stroked over her thighs and the breath caught in her throat from the tender touch.  She could see the darkness swirling in the depths of his amber eyes, could feel the restraint humming just under his skin and knew the effort he was exerting to keep his touch light and gentle so as not to frighten her.

 

Belle sighed, pressing a hand to her chest, trying to calm her heart where it threatened to beat out of her chest.  “Touch me, Rumpel … please, touch me.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin slowly lowered his head, answering her pleas with a soft kiss to her inner thigh, catching a bead of water on his tongue.  Who knew a bath with his wife could be so fraught with pleasure … and why hadn’t he tried it sooner? he thought, biting back a smirk.  It surely wouldn’t be the last.  He peppered her thighs with a myriad of kisses, some lingering, some quick, some accompanied with a flick of his tongue.  He savored each and every one of her gasps, the little moans at the back of her throat and the little jerks of surprise she wasn’t able to suppress as he discovered the more sensitive areas of her flesh.

 

She let out a little mewling whimper, her body stiffening slightly as his nose brushed against her curls.  He pressed his brow to her belly and inhaled deeply, her scent sending a surge of lust to his groin, but he dared not continue without her permission.  “Tell me to stop, dear one, and I will,” he croaked, his voice rough with desire.

 

Belle curled her fingers into his hair, urging him to lift his head.  It took some effort to will himself to do so.  He was so close to where he wanted to be, her heady scent filling his head with need.  His body sang with desire and the need to please her.  She shook her head, her fingertips caressing the line of his jaw as he met her gaze.  “Don’t stop.”

 

He groaned, releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit.  She arched her back and keened, unable to deny the sparks of pleasure coiling through her body.  “What do you want, treasure?” he asked, his lips leaving a wet kiss to the top of her mound.

 

She made a sound in the back of her throat, something incoherent that fired his blood, but still he wouldn’t move until she answered him.  “R-Rum … please.”

 

“Please what, love?” he asked, nipping at the inside of her hip.

 

“Inside … touch me … inside,” she gasped, unable to say more as he slipped a finger past her folds.  She clenched tightly around him and he was forced to reach down and stroke himself, relieving some of the pressure building in his cock.  “Yes,” she cried, her hips bucking involuntarily as she sought to draw him deeper.

 

Her world tilted on its axis as she felt the flat of his tongue slide sinuously over her slit.  In all their previous encounters, she’d never felt anything so sinfully delightful.  She opened her eyes and stared down at his head buried between her legs as he slid his arm beneath her right thigh, his hand curling over her hip.  Her legs parted wider of their own accord, making more room for him.

 

His lips parted on a soft gasp as she opened for him like a blooming rose, the pink blush of her sex glistening with her arousal.  She smelled sweeter than a treat after Sunday dinner and he groaned with pleasure as he set his lips to her, his tongue reveling in her flavor as it circled her little bundle of nerves.  The hand curled around her hip pressed into her belly as he lapped at her, trying to hold her still as she writhed and keened, bucking helplessly against his face as she climbed her peak, his name the only intelligible sound to fall from her perfect rosebud mouth.

 

He added a second finger to her, scissoring them gently, stretching her until he could move more easily within her.  His tongue continued its sensual dance against her clit, moving in tandem with his fingers, bringing her ever closer to release.  Her belly tightened, her walls fluttered and her thighs quivered as he sucked the little bud fully between his lips and scraped his teeth over it.  She came apart with a scream, her thighs tightening around his head as a warm rush of her essence coated his fingers.  He withdrew his hand, his tongue sliding through her folds to take their place at her entrance to lap up every sweet drop of her and she lay convulsing in a mass of quivering pleasure.

 

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t remove his mouth from her until the last little flutter of her orgasm subsided.  She collapsed weakly against him, still panting, as he pulled her off the marble dais and into his arms, sandwiching her between himself and the cool marble at her back.  He brushed the tangled mass of her hair back from her brow, cradling her face in his palms as he searched her eyes.  “Are you alright, pet?”

 

Belle nodded, still too overcome to speak.  She still felt as if a part of her was missing.  That had been the single most exciting experience of her life, yet it didn’t seem as if it were enough.  She needed _him_ … to be filled by _him_.  Her hands slid over his chest, her thumbs pressing into his nipples and his hips jerked against her as his eyes flared hotly.  His mouth crashed down on hers, a low growl building in his throat as his tongue pushed past her lips to taste her.

 

Her head swam.  She could taste herself on his lips, could feel his engorged length pressing against her belly and only one thought permeated her befuddled mind … how much she wanted him.  One hand delved into his hair, holding him to her as he plundered the inner recesses of her mouth, refusing to let him go for a second as the other traced silly little patterns over his ribs, slowly venturing lower to take him in hand.

 

He tore his mouth away from hers with a growl, thrusting up into her touch, his sharp nails leaving little red lines over her hips where they scored her sensitive flesh.  “Belle … wife … mine …” he chanted as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, biting gently and then laving the red marks with his tongue to soothe.  “Please,” he begged, lavishing her with kisses and soft nips to her skin, his hands moving over her sides to cup her breasts.  He reveled in her soft cries as his thumbs brushed over her taut nipples, his own joining hers to echo through the room as her grip tightened on his cock.  He bit down on his lip as she let go to cup him lower, fighting to control the myriad sensations battling in his churning gut.

 

The magic swirled beneath his skin, demanding its price, the darkness in his soul pricked like tiny knives, fighting against the light spilling into his heart.  Stars burst behind his eyes as she whispered one word, one single word to shatter his world and remake him … “Yes!”  He took a deep fortifying breath, forcing himself to calm.  There was still lingering fear in her eyes, tempered by her desire, but still prevalent in her gaze.

 

She smiled tremulously, so much trust in her steady gaze he almost had to look away from the sheer beauty of it.  No one had ever looked at him like that before.  His first wife had barely been able to bear his touch.  It was a wonder Baelfire had even been born, he thought scornfully.  Yet Belle looked upon him as though he were her whole world.  His lips were soft on hers when they met, gentle as he tried to reassure her with a kiss.  “Are you certain, precious?”

 

Belle nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck.  “I need you, Rumpel.  I need to know what it’s like to be filled by you.  I’m empty, as if a part of me is missing that only you can fill.”

 

A groan slipped past his parted lips as he lifted her right leg to curl over his hip, then the other. The water lapping at their bodies, still nearly scalding and emitting steam due his magic, made her nearly weightless in his arms as he cradled her to him.  He reached down and took himself in hand, pressing carefully at her entrance, but not allowing himself to push inside.  He could feel the scorching heat of her against him, the urge to thrust nearly more than he could bear.  “Hold on to me, pet.  Don’t be afraid.”

 

Her body was still tense, poised and waiting for the pain she knew was inevitable and he sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I’m trying … truly I am.” She clasped him tighter.  “I want this, Rum.  Don’t stop!”

 

“Shh, love. I won’t leave you unfulfilled.”  Rumpel reached between them and sought out the little bundle of nerves just above her opening, his fingers gently circling as he held her gaze.  His other hand trailed over her back until he reached her nape, cradling it, kneading away the tension as he worked her.  She keened softly, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth as she felt the pressure coiling deliciously in her belly.  “That’s it, my Belle,” he crooned, his eyes darkening with desire as her face relaxed into soft lines of pleasure.  Her hips bucked against his hand and he bit his tongue as he slipped further into her tight welcome heat.  “Take what you need!”

 

Unimaginable heat raced through her veins as her nails dug into his shoulders, her inner walls fluttering around the head of his cock as it slipped into her.  Her eyes welled with tears of frustration.  She could feel herself growing closer to her elusive peak, her pleasure just out of reach.  “Help me, Rum.  I don’t know what to do!” she cried brokenly.

 

He nuzzled his nose into the hollow of her throat, breathing her in and then trailed his hot wet tongue along the side of her neck, making her shiver.  “Relax, little wife.  Let go of your fears,” he cooed against her ear, concentrating on his ministrations instead of the intense throbbing of his cock surrounded by her velvety heat.  She tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper until the blunt head of his manhood butted against her maidenhead.  “Come for me, Belle.  Listen to your body.  It’s telling you to take what you want … take me, pet.”

 

He gave her clit a gentle pinch and she stiffened at the crest, shuddering helplessly as she plunged into the abyss.  Her hips jerked forward forcefully as he rose to meet her, breaking through her barrier of innocence to claim her fully.  He wrapped one arm tightly around her back, the other beneath her thighs, fighting against the urge to pound into her, to sate the fierce desire that rode him.

 

Finally her breathing calmed and she was still in his arms, her eyes alight with wonder to feel him buried inside her.  “Rum …  Oh, Rum, you’re … you’re …”

 

“Are you in pain?” he asked through tightly clenched teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking away furiously.

 

She shook her head and soothed her fingertips over the pulsing tick.  His eyes shot open to stare at her, longing in his gaze.  “No, husband, though it looks as though you are.  I was led to believe that I would suffer … not you,” she murmured in confusion.

 

He didn’t know where he found the strength, but he giggled wryly.  “I need to move, pet, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“There’s more?” she asked innocently.  She clenched her inner muscles, reveling in the warm weight of his cock buried in her folds, filling her up.  “How could it possibly get better than this?”

 

She whimpered as he canted his hips back, pulling nearly all the way out before sliding back in.  Her eyes widened and she didn’t hesitate to pull him in for a kiss, her lips gliding wetly over his own, her tongue thrusting inside to lick at the roof of his mouth.  He set a slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm her with too much at one time, yet wondering how long he’d be able to maintain it.  Sparks of raw heat already sizzled at the base of his spine, pleasure curling outward all the way to his fingertips.

 

Her eyes glowed like twin jewels as he thrust again, her hands smoothing over the muscles at play in his back to the curve of his arse, her nails digging into his firm flesh.  He nearly lost his balance as she canted her hips forward to meet him and held him tightly so she could grind her hips against his.  “Merciful gods, woman!!” he roared.

 

“Rumpel!  More!  I can feel it … please … faster!” she keened, sinking her teeth into the curve of his neck.  He tilted her hips where her clit brushed against him with every thrust, heightening her pleasure.  His pace increased, every nerve ending in his body on fire, the magic waiting impatiently to be sated.  For once, the Dark One held his tongue, his ever whispering voice silenced in the pleasure flooding his body and mind.

 

Belle wrapped around him with a strength she didn’t know she possessed as she plunged over her peak, dragging him with her in ever increasing waves of bliss, her walls clenching and drawing him deeper into her.  His brow dropped onto her shoulder, his arms tightening about her almost painfully as he spilled himself within her.  The magic surged through him, enveloping them both in a warm golden glow and then dissipating in a shower of sparks that tickled their skin.

 

Her eyes drooped sleepily, her body sated and languid in his arms, content to let him hold her indefinitely.  “Rum?  What was that?”

 

“Magic,” he panted, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, his throat parched from his exertions.  “The price of our deal has been claimed.”

 

Belle brushed the damp hair away from his eyes and narrowed her gaze on him.  “I thought it had been claimed weeks ago when we married.”

 

Her husband slipped out of her and gathered her up into his arms, cradling her to his chest as he carried her from the pool and laid her down on the bench.  He retrieved a fluffy towel and dried her carefully, not missing a spot, a happy smile on his lips.  “You’re truly mine now, pet … forever.  The magic sealed our bond.”  He dropped a kiss to her belly.  “Are you sorry?”

 

Still after everything they’d been through, he was unsure of how much she cared for him.  “Rumpelstiltskin, I called on you to save my kingdom, when in truth … you saved _me_.  You saved me from certain death, from a loveless marriage, the title of queen and the authority that went along with it - which I never wanted.  You saved me from a life of loneliness and gave me a family … a real family with a husband who dotes upon me and has shown me a happiness I never thought possible.  How could you ever think I would be sorry for that?”

 

He wrapped the towel around his hips, busying himself to hide the moisture gathering in his eyes.  He stretched out beside her, pulling her into the circle of his arms, holding her reverently and thanking the gods for sending her to him to be the light to hold his darkness at bay. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, am I forgiven for the cliffie last week? Hmm? Oh, come on, be nice :D I really hope you enjoyed it. Next week, there will possibly be more smut … and another trip to the village. Regardless, the kids will be back. Love to you all! Please let me know what you think. See you next week!!


	18. Market Day

 

Rumpelstiltskin eased away from his precious wife, dropping a kiss to the back of her neck, and searched quickly for his discarded pants.  Pulling them on, he hesitated, glancing between Belle and the closed doorway.  She had fallen asleep quickly, nestled into his side.  He hated to leave her, but a visit to his tower laboratory was necessary to insure her comfort.  Figuring it would be quicker, he called upon his magic to transport him to the tower.  The ever-burning fire in the hearth warded off the chill as he moved to the shelving behind his worktable.

 

His spell clever hands instantly found the box of medicinal oils he’d made months ago to replenish his stock, choosing one infused with aloe and healing magic that would soothe any aches Belle might have now after their exertions.  He didn’t want her to suffer _any_ discomfort.  He was ready to return to her, when his eyes fell upon the amulet lying innocuously on his work table.  It was finally ready.  Two weeks’ worth of charms, a mixture of dark and light magic, and an entire spool of his gold had gone into it.  Today was the perfect day to give it to her.  His fingers closed reverently over the golden charm as his magic swirled about him, bringing him back to her side.

 

She hadn’t woken in his absence and a relieved sigh escaped his parted lips.  He hadn’t wanted her to wake while he was in the tower and think he was ashamed of what they’d done together.  The water was still piping hot, the steam curling through the air keeping her pleasantly warm.  She was stretched out on her stomach, her head pillowed comfortably on her arms, giving him a tantalizing view of her backside.

 

A slow smile spread over his face as he took her in.  Seeing her spread out before him, a feast for his senses, he had to wonder for the thousandth time what he’d done to deserve her.  Monsters were not gifted with a goddess such as his lovely wife.  He would just have to keep her happy so she wouldn’t leave.  Whatever it was that he’d done wrong in his first marriage … well, he would surely endeavor not to do the same with Belle.  He’d make sure she wanted to stay forever, just as she’d promised.

 

Rumpelstiltskin set the bottle of oil and the amulet on the bench and leaned over her, pressing a kiss to the small of her back.  “Time to waken up, pet,” he purred softly, nuzzling along the length of her spine.  “We’ve only about an hour until midday.”

 

“Mhmm,” she sighed, stretching languidly, eyes still closed and a dreamy smile upon her rosebud mouth.

 

His sharp teeth nipped softly, with the greatest of care, at her shoulder and she giggled.  The sound made him smile in return.  “How are you feeling?” he asked, capturing her lips when she rolled over and wrapped her arms about his neck. “Are you sore?”

 

A rosy blush spread across her chest before creeping up her neck.  “Frankly, I’m feeling rather silly right now,” she admitted, her lips turning down in a frown, a little wrinkle appearing between her brows.

 

“Oh?” he asked, stretching out beside her and propping himself on his elbow. 

 

She peeked up at him shyly from beneath her lashes.  “I let my handmaidens and my ladies convince me … losing my virginity was supposed to be painful and horrible and degrading according to them,” she complained.  “Why would they do that, Rum?”

 

He brushed a few damp curls away from her face and caressed her left cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, smiling gently at her.  “Sometimes girls are told horror stories about how painful it will be to deter them from being promiscuous before marriage.”

 

“But Rumpel, I was never left alone long enough to even think of such a thing.  I was betrothed to a man I didn’t love, whom I even feared a little.  Why wouldn’t they have tried to set my mind at ease?  Why intentionally frighten me of my marriage bed?”

 

“I don’t know, pet,” he said, pulling her into the comforting circle of his arms.  “There are indeed men who care little if their brides receive pleasure from the act.  There are others who cherish their brides and aren’t able to reach satisfaction unless they know their wives are happy and pleased.”

 

“Well, I consider myself most fortunate that you fall into the latter category,” she murmured softly, burying her flaming face against his neck.  “I’m so sorry I let my fear keep me from you for so long, Rumpel.  You were so incredibly patient with me, and I will be forever grateful.”

 

His hand ghosted over her side to settle on her hip, giving it a gentle squeeze.  “You are my wife, Belle.  It is my duty to assure your happiness, your protection … speaking of protection,” he grinned, reaching behind him to fetch the amulet he’d made for her.  “I have a gift for you.”

 

Belle sat up next to him on the bench, catching her lip between her teeth as he moved her hair to the side to clasp the long golden chain about her neck.  She shivered as he pressed a lingering kiss to her nape and rested his hands on her shoulders.  Her fingers wrapped about the pendant, a dragon with one sparkling tanzanite eye, bringing it up to her face for a closer inspection.  “Oh, Rumpel … it’s beautiful.  The stone matches my betrothal ring, too,” she breathed, a happy smile gracing her lips.  She turned and flung herself into his arms, peppering his face with kisses.  “Thank you!”

 

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled lightly, pulling her onto his lap.  He wrapped an arm about her back, another beneath her knees and rose, carrying her back into their bedchamber.  He laid her down carefully on the sheepskin rug before the hearth and held up one long finger, begging for patience.  He went back to retrieve the bottle of oil from the bathing chamber and a fluffy pillow from the bed to place behind her head.

 

Finally he dropped down beside her, content with her spread out before him adorned in nothing but his gift.  She seemed to be amused with his efforts to make her comfortable, but he needed to explain.  He tapped the pendant resting between her breasts and sighed.  “I’m glad you’re pleased with your gift, pet, but I didn’t make it just because I enjoy seeing you wear my gold.  I’ve also spelled it for your protection.”

 

“You did?” she asked in surprise.  “What does it do?”

 

He shrugged.  “It will keep you safe.  You already know to call my name if you’re in trouble, but what if you aren’t able to do so?  The magic in the pendant can sense your distress.  If you merely think my name if you are in trouble, it will bring me to your side.  It gives me peace of mind to have you wear it.”

 

“Then I’ll never take it off,” she promised.  Her eyes drifted to the vial of oil in his hands, his nails tapping against the light green glass in nervous agitation.  “What’s that?”

 

The mage glanced down at the vial.  “Oh this,” he murmured, his eyes rising back to hers.  “This is to ease any discomfort you may be experiencing from … um, well …”

 

Belle giggled softly as she noticed his odd-colored skin darken over his cheekbones.  “From our love-making?” she asked, refusing to call it anything else.  “I told you, husband.  I’m fine.”

 

He arched a brow, not quite believing her.  “Would you indulge an old monster?”

 

Her lips pursed as she considered his request.  “No … but I _will_ indulge my husband.”

 

He grinned sheepishly, having been called out, so to speak.  He knew she didn’t approve of him calling himself a monster.  He twirled his finger, indicating that she should roll over.  “Lie on your stomach, pet.  I promise to make you feel better,” he whispered lowly, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down her spine as she eagerly turned to do as bid.

 

The sorcerer licked his lips nervously as he held the vial tightly in his hand, using just a touch of magic to warm the oil inside.  He uncorked it and poured a thin stream of the olive colored liquid along the length of her spine.  “Not too cold?” he asked as she gave a reflexive jerk to the oil coming in contact with her skin.

 

She shook her head and gathered her hair to move it out of his way.  “No, it just startled me, is all.”

 

He could hear the smile in her voice and he relaxed, his hands splaying out over her lower back, coating his fingertips with the oil.  He felt his cock stir at the low moan issuing from deep in her throat as his hands traversed the length of her back.  She was so lovely, her skin seemingly formed of pale moonbeams and softer than lamb’s fleece.  He could feel the magic in the oil seeping deep into her muscles, spreading it’s healing throughout her body.

 

He warmed more of the oil in his palms, pressing another kiss to her nape as his body blanketed hers, his hands spreading out over her arms to her fingertips, not missing an inch of her skin.  She moaned again, her hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, bringing his mouth down to hers for a kiss.

 

“Are you using magic?” she breathed when he pulled away to reach for the bottle again.

 

“Mhmm,” he murmured distractedly as he poured more oil into his palms, his hands hovering over the soft swell of her bottom.  He groaned as he kneaded her flesh, his nails scratching lightly.  “The oil is infused with my healing magic.  Do you like it, pet?” he purred softly as he moved lower, his thumbs caressing the crease where her arse met her thighs.

 

Belle writhed beneath his questing hands, seeking friction for the burning ache in her core.  “I do.  Very much.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin even applied the oil to the soles of her feet when he finally reached them.  “You can turn over, dearie,” he rasped out hoarsely, sitting back on his heels.  He caught her wrists in his hands as she reached him, giving a firm shake of his head.  “Let me finish, pet … please.  Then you may touch me to your heart’s content.”

 

She nodded, acceding to his request, though she still pouted.  He seemed to be just as affected as she and she didn’t think it was fair that he should be the only one allowed to touch.  A little whimper caught in her throat as he pressed a kiss to each of her wrists before he set her hands once more at her sides.  “Tease.”

 

He poured more of the oil in the valley of her breasts and spread it over her chest in tantalizing circles.  “Madam!” he crooned, a devilish smile crooking the corners of his mouth.  “Whatever are you implying?”

 

His clever fingers kneaded her shoulders and upper arms before they ghosted softly over her collarbones and upper chest.  He skipped over her breasts and slid his oily hands over her ribs, earning a frustrated growl from his wife.  “Is there something wrong, dear one?” he asked innocently.

 

Belle propped herself up on her elbow, reaching her hand up to curl around his nape to pull him down for a kiss.  “You just proved my point,” she whispered, nipping at his lower lip a bit harder than she’d ever done previously.  “You’re a bloody tease, husband.”

 

He waggled his brows playfully and cupped her breasts in his hands as he nibbled at her full lower lip.  “Is this what you want, my treasure?” he asked, his voice no more than a husky whisper despite his teasing smile.

 

“Yes,” she hissed, arching up into his gentle touch.

 

“What a greedy little pet I’ve acquired,” he murmured lovingly, his lips trailing after his wandering hands as they moved over the flat plane of her belly.

 

“Mhmm …” she moaned, her hips wriggling in his palms as he moved lower.  “Are you happy with you acquisition, my Rumpel?”

 

He pressed a kiss to the top of her mound, her curls tickling his nose as he smoothed more oil over the tops of her thighs.  “More than happy, dear one,” he said reverently, his warm amber gaze rising to hers as he worked his way down her legs.  He lifted one dainty foot and pressed his lips to her arch.  “Are _you_ happy, pet?”

 

She stilled, regarding him closely, taking in the tense posture that settled over his shoulders, the cessation in the rise and fall of his chest as he held his breath, and the tightness in the lines at the corners of his eyes as if his entire existence depended upon her answer.  She felt her chest tighten as she watched the hope bloom in his eyes.  Was he truly so damaged that he couldn’t believe how much she cared for him?  “I never knew happiness until you, Rumpelstiltskin.”

 

His lips parted on a tremulous smile, his eyes softening with surprise.  He could hear the Dark One growling and snarling, but it didn’t seem important.  He felt the walls around his heart shift more mortar from the stones and a bit of the darkness recede from his soul, until there was nothing but the feelings his little wife evoked in him.  Her leg curled over his hip as he dropped his weight to his hands on either side of her and claimed her lips in a searing kiss.

 

Belle wrapped her arms about his back, but he didn’t linger, sitting back once more to reach for the oil.  “Patience, precious,” he said in a ragged whisper.  Her back arched and her breath caught on a moan as his hand covered her sex, his slick fingers sliding easily into her, the oil mingling with the wetness of her arousal.

 

She stared up at him in wonder as she clenched around his fingers, the lingering soreness from losing her maidenhead easing away as the healing oil came in contact with her inner folds.  “Oh, Rum …”

 

“Better, pet?” he purred silkily as he finally settled at her side, his lips tracing the milky column of her throat.  His thumb circled her clit as his bit gently beneath her ear then laved the sting away with his tongue.  “Or do you want me to stop?  I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Mmmm … no, don’t stop,” she panted, feeling her elusive peak just out of her reach.  Her fingers closed around his wrist and he jerked his gaze to hers.  “Want you, Rum … you, inside … please.”

 

He nodded, removing his hand from her and reaching for the ties at the front of his cotton trousers.  He let her pull him into a kiss as he pushed them over his hips, using his feet to kick them away completely, not wanting to waste another moment in giving her what she wanted.  She gasped as he slid into her in one smooth, gentle thrust, her eyes flying open to meet his.

 

He pressed his brow to hers, his nose nuzzling against her own as he held himself still.  She delved her hands into his hair and nipped at his lips, her legs wrapping themselves about his waist, drawing him deeper within her.  “Belle … my precious Belle,” he murmured against her lips as he began to move.  He could never remember feeling so complete as when he joined with her, never knew what it was like to feel cherished and … loved.

 

No, she hadn’t said the words, but she made him feel her heart with every touch, every kiss.  He didn’t even know if he could feel more than a deep sense of caring for her, but if there had been a woman created for him to love, he knew it would be his Belle.  When he held her, it felt as if he were coming home.

 

Her lips tasted as much of his skin as she could reach as her hands smoothed over his shoulders, his back, lower to clasp his firm arse.  He howled as she clenched around his cock, her velvety folds squeezing him tightly, urging him to follow her over the precipice. He was so filled with her light it left him dizzy and disoriented.  There were no words for what she made him feel as bright white light exploded behind his lids in a starburst of pure pleasure.

 

It took a concentrated effort to keep his weight from crushing her.  Instead, he rolled to her side and pulled her against his chest, unwilling to relinquish his hold on her.  He _needed_ to have her skin pressed to his for just a bit longer.  He _needed_ her to keep the darkness at bay, the demon caged and silent.  He needed _her_ period.

 

He was surprised to feel wetness against his chest.  “Belle, love, what is it?  Are you hurt?” he asked in alarm.

 

She shook her head.  “No.  I’m perfect.  Just …” she trailed off, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

 

“Tell me, pet.  You can tell me anything,” he whispered, the sound barely audible over the crackling of the flames in the hearth as he pressed a kiss to her crown and smoothed his hand over her back.

 

“Promise me you’ll never let me go, Rum.”

 

His eyes closed, a shiver of dread tripping along his spine at the thought of losing her.  “Never, my Belle.  You’re mine … forever.  As I’m yours.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Morraine slapped her brother’s hand lightly as he reached for a raspberry pastry from the platter.  The table in the Great Hall was set, their lunch cooling before them as they waited for their parents to join them.  He rubbed at the reddening skin and scowled at his sister.  “But I’m hungry, ‘Raine!  What do you think could possibly be keeping them?”

 

The girl sat back in her chair and fiddled with a pearl button on the front of her spring green dress.  “I don’t know and frankly I try not to think of what mama and papa do alone in their bedchamber.  Papa wouldn’t approve,” she sniffed imperiously.  “Besides, you’re always hungry.”

 

Baelfire snorted.  His sister tried too hard to please their father, thinking if she didn’t, he wouldn’t want her to be his daughter anymore.  She should know better by now, but sometimes insecurities took longer to banish than one would think.  “Well I don’t approve of having to wait!” he pouted.

 

Morraine rolled her eyes, deciding it would be best to change the subject.  “How do you think you did on papa’s test … the one with the word problems?” she asked, confident that she hadn’t missed a single one.

 

He waved a dismissive hand, a cocky grin curling his lips.  “They were easy.  I like math.”  His brows furrowed.  “The only one that kind of stumped me was the one Belle added.  It wasn’t even a math problem.”

 

“I think she added it to make sure we weren’t rushing, just to see if we were really paying attention,” she replied in a serious tone.

 

“Yeah, but what was she thinking?  _If a rooster lays an egg atop the barn, will it roll off the left or the right side?_   How are we supposed to know which side? We weren’t there to see it lay the egg!”

 

Morraine blinked at her brother, her mouth falling open.  “Um … ah … so what answer did you write down?” she asked, trying to keep a straight face.

 

Baelfire shrugged.  “I dunno.  I just picked ‘left’.  Figured it was a good guess.  I was more interested in drawing this morning.”

 

His sister burst out laughing, unable to hold her mirth in another second.  “Oh gods!! Papa is going to give you extra work tomorrow.”

 

“Why?” he asked, befuddled.

 

“Bae, roosters don’t lay eggs!”

 

The doors to the Great Hall opened to reveal their father, Belle cradled in his arms as he carried her bridal style into the room.  “What’s so funny?” he asked, giving her one last chaste kiss before setting her down on her chair at the table.

 

“What’s wrong with mama?” Bae asked, rising from his seat to give her a hug of greeting.  He knelt at her side and clasped her left hand in both of his.  “Are you ok, mama?  Are you sick?  Is there anything I can do?”

 

Morraine’s laughter died away as she took Belle’s left hand in hers.  “Yeah, mama, are you well?” she asked, her brow knitting in concern.

 

“Belle is fine, children,” Rumpelstiltskin assured them.  “Bae, come sit so we can eat.”

 

He refused to move until Belle nodded, a rosy blush on her cheeks.  “I’m fine, my darlings, worry not.  Your papa is just silly and thinks I’m unable to walk the distance from our bedchamber to the hall.”  Rumpelstiltskin arched a playful brow at her as she lowered her voice conspiratorially.  “We must indulge him.”

 

He took her plate and piled it high with bread, cheese, cured ham and roast beef and one of the raspberry pastries Bae had coveted earlier.  “Are you taking a crack at my age, madam?”

 

Belle poured them both a cup of tea and shook her head innocently.  “Of course not, husband.  Why would I do such a thing?  After all, you’re not a day over ninety and I’ll defend you to anyone who says otherwise.”

 

He stared at her with mock horror, one hand covering his heart.  “Lies!”

 

The children giggled as they filled their own plates.  “Are we still going to the village today, papa?  It’s market day!” Baelfire chimed, his mouth full of pastry.

 

“Baelfire, don’t talk with your mouth full, son,” his father scolded.  “I don’t know.  If the weather is clear enough, we’ll make the trip down the mountain.”

 

“We really should,” Morraine piped up, setting her tea cup back on its saucer.  “Mama’s order at the dressmaker’s should be ready.”

 

“And I want to see my friends, papa.  Please?” he asked, shooting a doe-eyed look at both of his parents.  Belle didn’t answer one way or the other.  Instead she waited to see what her husband thought was best.

 

“What do you want to do, pet?” he surprised her by asking for her opinion.  “Do you feel up to market day? Or would you prefer to postpone the trip until next week?”  He toyed with his food, stuffing a piece of the freshly baked bread with cheese and ham.

 

“I’d love to go,” Belle replied, trying to hide the pleased flush that settled in her cheeks.  She was eventually going to have to get used to her husband treating her like an equal instead of an adornment.  Again she realized just how lucky she was to have Rumpelstiltskin as her husband.

 

“Then it’s settled.  After lunch I’ll bring the carriage around and we’ll spend the afternoon at the market.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

If it weren’t for the Dark One’s magic, they wouldn’t have made it down the mountain.  The pass had been blocked by a ton of snow and it had taken nearly an hour for him to proclaim it safe enough for his family to pass through.  He returned to the carriage, his lips tinged blue from the frigid weather.  The solstice wasn’t even upon them yet and the temperatures were below zero.  He feared their market days would be cut short in the coming months if the weather continued to worsen.  Belle had pulled him back into the carriage and wrapped two blankets about them, making a nice little cocoon for them.  Bae and Morraine were on the opposite seat, bundled together with a book on their laps to share.

 

He shivered when she pressed her face into his neck, and it didn’t have anything to do with the cold.  It didn’t take much longer for them to reach the village, but by that time he was ready to go back home and lock himself in his bedchamber with his little temptress of a wife.  He wasn’t happy that it had started snowing again.

 

“Alright, Morraine, go with your mama to the dressmaker’s while I visit Mr. Swiftly.  Baelfire, I don’t know how long we’ll be able to stay because of the weather so you might want to see if Peter wants to accompany you on your errands,” Rumpelstiltskin said as he assisted Belle and his daughter out of the carriage.

 

“Are we meeting up at the inn?  Granny should have a big pot of stew on a day like today,” Bae asked, rubbing his stomach.

 

“Is that all you think of, Bae? You just had lunch!” his sister chastised.

 

Belle stepped between the squabbling siblings before a fight could break out.  “Alright, darlings, enough of that.  Yes, Bae, that sounds fine, I suppose.”  She turned to Rumpelstiltskin and leaned up to press a quick kiss on his lips that turned into something more lingering.  “Is that alright with you, my husband?” she asked, her tone a bit husky.

 

His eyes gleamed with warm amber fire as he let her pull away. He knew he’d be about as welcome at the inn as a horde or rampaging ogres, but he agreed nonetheless. “That’s fine, pet.  I’ll see you soon.”

 

Belle sighed happily as she set off towards the dressmaker’s with Morraine.  Red called out to them when they were several shops away, waving a greeting as she crossed the square, dodging past a few vendors at their stalls.  She and Morraine walked ahead of her, chatting rapidly as teenagers were wont to do, entering the shop ahead of Belle.

 

“Why haven’t you come to visit yet, Red?” Morraine asked, waiting next to Belle at the counter while Mrs. Davenport disappeared into the back of the shop to fetch her stepmother’s order.

 

“Oh, you know how Granny is,” the girl said, her shoulders beneath her vibrant red cloak, drooping dejectedly.  “She’ll never let me come up to the Dark Castle.”

 

Morraine sighed in disappointment.  “I want you to come stay the night though.  We’d have such a grand time.  You’ve never visited an enchanted castle before and it’s just not fair!” Thankfully she refrained from stamping her foot, knowing her mama would disapprove.

 

Belle turned, handing the girls several bags each before gathering the stack of boxes still on the counter.  “Why won’t your grandmother allow you to visit the Dark Castle?  Frankly, I think the name is rather silly.  There’s nothing dark or sinister about our home.”

 

Red bit her lip and exited the shop, holding the door open with her hip, but she wouldn’t meet Belle’s eyes.  Finally, Morraine sighed and met her mama’s searching gaze.  “Granny doesn’t like papa and she’s more than a bit overprotective and just mean for not letting Red and Peter visit.”

 

“Why doesn’t she like Rumpel?” Belle asked, clearly not understanding everyone’s reticence towards her husband.

 

“I don’t think she likes his magic.  She doesn’t want him to corrupt us,” Red mumbled as they neared the carriage and secured the packages within.  Rumpel would send them on to the castle before they departed so they wouldn’t be crowded, but for now they wouldn’t have to pack them all over the village.

 

Belle readjusted her cloak, pulling it more securely over her chest to ward off the cold.  “Red, do you and Peter really want to come for a visit?”

 

“Of course!  We’d like nothing better!” the girl exclaimed, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.  “But Granny –“

 

“Mama, she’s never going to agree,” Morraine whined.

 

“I’ll talk to her,” Belle said simply, turning on her heel and heading off in the direction of the inn.

 

“What!!” the girls shrieked, frozen in place for a moment before tearing after her.  They instantly fell into step beside her, trying their best to talk her out of a confrontation with the widow Lucas.

 

“ … You don’t know her …”

 

“ … She even scares Mr. Turner, the blacksmith, and he’s twice her size …”

 

“ … She yelled at papa and ordered him to leave the tavern …”

 

“ … She’s scary, milady!  You don’t want to …”

 

Belle ignored them, rolling her eyes over their childish fears.  “If I can host a dinner party for twelve arguing dignitaries without all-out war being declared, I think I can have a conversation with your grandmother.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ooooh, what’s going to happen next? Think Granny’s going to give her a hard time? How’s Rum going to react? It’s sure to be fun, don’tcha think? I know I’m looking forward to it. Please review and let me know if you enjoyed the chapter. Your comments (good and bad) feed the muse, y’know. Love and hugs to you all!!


	19. Temper, Temper, Dearie

 

A blast of heat from the common room’s enormous hearth rushed out to greet Belle as she opened the door of the inn.  The lower room was a tavern with ten or so rooms above to suit the weary traveler.  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust as she stepped into the welcoming warmth, revealing only a few patrons settling in for the midday meal of lamb stew.  She inhaled deeply, the tantalizing aroma of succulent lamb and vegetables in a hearty broth making her stomach rumble despite her earlier repast.

 

She stomped her boots against the welcome mat, freeing any loose snow clinging to them so she wouldn’t track a wet path through the establishment, and threw back the fur-lined hood of her cloak.  The door swung shut behind her with a thud as she proceeded to the bar.  Morraine and Red hadn’t accompanied her.  She’d sent them off to the market stalls to see what the vendors had this week to catch their fancy.  She didn’t need them hovering at her elbow while she tried to speak to the widow Lucas.  Really, she couldn’t be that bad.

 

Belle was likely to change her mind as she perched on a stool and the woman in question emerged from the kitchens with a tray of food and drink for one of the occupied tables.  She cut an imposing figure with her stiff posture and what appeared to be a permanent scowl on her weathered face. 

 

The widow thrust the tray at the barmaid as she looked at Belle over the rim of her spectacles.  “Winnifred, take this to the gentleman by the hearth.  They’re sure to be parched with you woolgathering behind the bar, you lazy girl.”  The much put upon Winnifred mumbled an apology and hurried away, glad to be out from under Granny’s stern scrutiny.  “What can I do for you, Lady Belle?” she asked, turning her attention to her new customer.

 

“Oh … you know who I am?” Belle asked in surprise, never having met the woman before.

 

Granny set a worn dish towel on the bar and met her gaze with a nod.  “Everyone knows you, milady.  It’s not every day the Dark One takes a bride.”

 

“Actually, I’ve come to discuss a matter with you if you have a moment.  Might we share a pot of tea by the fire?  I find myself quite chilled.”  Belle smiled sweetly, keeping her tone amicable.

 

Granny looked as if she were about to balk and refuse her request, but seeing as she didn’t have the excuse of a roomful of customers, she decided to hear what the noblewoman might have to say.  “Rourke, brew a pot of tea for the Lady of the Dark Castle and bring refreshments,” she bellowed over her shoulder, her unwavering gaze never leaving Belle.  Finally she gestured to one of the tables next to the blazing hearth.

 

Belle took a seat, the warmth from the fire a welcome respite as she smoothed her gloved hands over the skirt of her plum skirts.  She smiled at the older woman as she removed her gloves and tucked them into the reticule swinging from her wrist. 

 

Granny folded her arms over her ample bosom and stared curiously at the girl.  “What is it you wanted to discuss, milady?” she asked.

 

“Please, call me Belle.  I wanted to speak with you about your grandchildren, Red and Peter.”

 

“What about them?  Have they been causing trouble again?” Granny asked, her eyes narrowing on the door as if she could actually see through it and find them egging villagers in the square.

 

“No, of course not,” Belle rushed to reassure her.  “Their behavior is above reproach.  My Morraine and Baelfire enjoy their company immensely, which is why I’m here.  My children would like for their friends to join them at the Dark Castle for a sleepover if you are amenable, and –“

 

“No.”

 

The barman rushed over to their table and deposited the tray on its rough-hewn surface along with a plate of almond biscuits before hurrying back to his post.  Belle’s brow creased in a frown as the woman poured tea into the two cups provided. 

 

“No?  Just no?  Might I ask why you won’t allow them to visit?” Belle asked, accepting the cup from her and adding a few of the brown sugar cubes to the warm brew.

 

Granny sipped at her own tea as she regarded the girl over the rim of her cup.  “I am not letting my grandchildren trek up that mountain to visit the Dark One’s lair.  If you had any sense, girl, you wouldn’t have tethered yourself to him in the first place.”

 

Belle gently lowered her cup to its saucer and reached for a biscuit, shoving the small cookie into her mouth to stop her from saying something she would surely regret.  Her temper flared beneath the mask of calm she wore, finding she didn’t like others to judge her husband.  Finally, she raised her gaze back up to meet Granny’s challenging stare.

 

“So, is your hatred of my husband due to his infamous reputation or is it a little more personal?  Surely, an intelligent woman, such as yourself doesn’t judge a man by vicious rumors.  There is much spread about Rumpelstiltskin, but what they neglect to tell you is how much good he’s done for this village, what a wonderful father he is, or the effort he puts into fighting back the darkness which threatens to consume his soul.”

 

Granny set her tea cup down on the table, startled by Belle’s defense of the imp.  “I was forced to call on him to help Red last summer when she reached her fourteenth birthday,” she admitted ruefully.  “I don’t like to be beholden to _anyone_ , especially one who makes his living off the suffering of others.”

 

Belle tilted her head to the side in contemplation.  “No, I don’t think it’s that at all.  You don’t like it because Rumpel knows your secret.  Am I right?”

 

Granny huffed indignantly, but she couldn’t hide the flush of color which rose up her neck to settle in her cheeks.

 

Belle reached out and covered the woman’s hand with one of her own where it rested against the table top.  “Rum would never betray your secret, Mrs. Lucas.  He’s an honorable man beneath the mask of the Dark One.  Your secret – whatever it may be – is safe with him.  I assure you, I wouldn’t have married him if I hadn’t seen the good in him.”

 

Granny frowned down into her cup.  “What’s your story anyway?  How did you find yourself desperate enough to call on him?”

 

Belle smiled, reaching for the tea pot to refill her cup.  “My kingdom was on the verge of destruction from the ogres.  I made a deal with Rum to save us in exchange for becoming his wife and mother to his children.  It was a lot to take in, but I have settled nicely into my new life.  It would have been worse if I’d remained.”

 

“Weren’t you a princess?  That’s the rumor going around town.”

 

“I was,” Belle replied.  “I didn’t care for it much.  Any young girl who wishes to be a princess, would not be happy with the reality.  I was under constant guard, tutors forced upon me to make sure I didn’t embarrass myself or the kingdom with shoddy manners, and betrothed to an odious man I knew I could never love.  My life was no fairy tale.”

 

“And I suppose now it’s all teacakes and roses,” Granny said with a dubious snort.

 

“Not at all, but it’s so much better than my life in Avonlea.” Belle reached for another biscuit, nibbling thoughtfully on it.  “Now I have two children to dote upon.  They’re such wonderful little ones.  Rumpel has done a fine job of raising them on his own.  And I also have a husband who treats me with respect and values my mind as well as my face.  He’s shown me that my opinion matters.  That’s something I never had at home with my father.”

 

The old woman was silent for so long, Belle was about to give up on convincing her to let the children come for a visit.  “You can call me Granny … Belle,” she said stiffly.

 

“I’d like that, Granny.”

 

“But I’m still not allowing my grandchildren to visit unchaperoned,” she insisted.

 

“Of course.  You are more than welcome to accompany them.  I think you would enjoy seeing Rumpel’s greenhouse.  It is truly a marvel,” Belle gushed.  If Granny were anything like her former housekeeper, Mrs. Potts, she would be pea green with envy over the greenhouse and its lush verdant vegetation even in the midst of winter.  “Shall I send the carriage for you all this Saturday?” she asked, taking a sip of her tea.

 

The woman’s lips curled up into a wry smirk as she rose from the table.  “I suppose we could come for tea.  I’ll have to see for myself if the imp’s home is fit for my younguns.”

 

Belle beamed at her.  “Expect the carriage to come around at two then.”  She rose from her chair, her bright smile slipping just a bit.  “I do hope we can be friends, Granny.  Not only will it mean a lot to the children, but … it would be nice to have someone I can talk to besides Rum and the kids.”

 

Granny regarded her over the rim of her spectacles, her hazel eyes warm.  “With that husband of yours, you’re likely to need a friend.” 

 

Belle chuckled and squeezed the woman’s hand as she felt the skin prickle on her nape.  She turned away from Granny towards the door to find four wide-eyed children and her gaping husband, a look of pure incredulity on all their faces. 

 

Granny snorted.  “What are you lot staring at?  Look at you, letting the heat out.  Come inside, quickly,” she scolded, ushering them over to a table.  “Sit a spell and I’ll have Winnifred dish you up a bowl of stew.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin moved to her side as the children rushed to do as the widow had bade them.  He paid no heed to the noisy rabble who entered behind him.  He clasped her hands, his thumbs smoothing over the delicate skin of her wrists.  “Are you alright, pet?  Morraine said you were coming to speak to Widow Lucas and they …” he adapted a fearful expression which made her laugh.  “… feared for your life.”

 

Belle peered up into warm amber eyes, shadowed by the hood of his cloak.  She smiled reassuringly, basking in the concern radiating from him.  “We had a nice chat, husband.  I invited the children to come for a sleepover, but she would rather start with tea.  So I will be sending the carriage for them on Sat –“

 

The four laborers who had come into the tavern behind Rumpelstiltskin collected their drinks from the bar and moved towards the hearth. The largest of group – unmindful of where he was going – stumbled into Belle, knocking her over a bench and onto the floor.  He sneered down at her, his gaze slightly unfocused.  “Watch where yer goin’, lady,” he slurred over his shoulder as he continued on his way.

 

“Mama!” Baelfire cried, jumping up from his seat to see to her, Morraine on his heels.

 

“Milady!” Red gasped in outrage, she and Peter following their friends.

 

Rumpelstiltskin knelt at her side, his blood boiling with fury, making his voice harsh and steely as he asked, “Are you alright, pet?  Are you hurt?”

 

Belle winced as she put her hands to the floor to lever herself up, her left wrist buckling beneath her.  A wave of pain shot up her arm, causing her stomach to roil and churn.  “Oww,” she wailed.  “M-My wrist!”  She looked up in alarm as Rumpelstiltskin climbed to his feet, his eyes nearly black with rage.  “Rumpel?” she asked, her voice quavering with trepidation.  She’d never known him to radiate so much dark power she could feel the tangible evidence of it.

 

Granny rushed over to Belle, shooing the children away so she could help the girl to her feet.  She settled her on a chair and called for the barman to fill a towel with snow for their lady’s injury.  Mayor Swiftly entered the tavern with the milliner and his daughter, recognized the trouble brewing and quickly ducked out again. 

 

Grace ran over to her friends, her brow creased with worry.  “What happened?” she asked Baelfire.

 

He pointed to the four men near the hearth.  “One of those men knocked mama down and now there’s going to be trouble.  You might want to leave before things get ugly.”

 

Jefferson, unconcerned with the debacle, sauntered over to the bar and ordered a pot of tea to share with Grace, avidly watching as he waited.

 

The Dark One howled in triumph as he was let out of his cage, feverishly whispering in Rumpelstiltskin’s mind.  _“He hurt your pretty precious pet, Spinner!”_ he hissed, rubbing his hands together with glee.  _“He needs to be punished.  Use the power, embrace it, revellllll in it.  Snap his neck, Spinner.  Show him you are not one to be trifled with.  Show him you are the Dark One!”_

 

“You!” Rumpelstiltskin snarled, tossing off the hood of his cloak as he took a step towards the man.  His hands trembled with the need to loose his magic, to hurt him as the brute had hurt Belle.

 

The man – his back still turned away from the mage – drank deeply from his pint of ale, rolling his eyes.  He’d barely gotten a glimpse of the small man with the noblewoman as he’d passed, but if he were willing to call him out for his rudeness, he was confident he could take him.  He didn’t notice that his companions had gone still and silent, their eyes widening in fear.  “Yeah, what?”

 

Incensed, the sorcerer closed the distance between them, his rage no longer something he could control.  The Dark One was now the stronger of the two.  “You harmed my lady wife.  I cannot let that stand.”

 

The behemoth began to turn, his voice filled with mocking scorn.  “Yeah and what’re you gonna do about –“  His voice cut off as the imp’s hand closed about his throat, squeezing painfully as he was lifted several inches off the floor.

 

“Well, dearie, there are numerous things I could do,” he snarled, his lips drawn back from his ruined teeth, his eyes black as pitch.  “I could begin by locking you in my dungeon for a week.  I’m older than the fairies, you fiend.  I know tortures that would make you weep for your mother.  I could bring you to the brink of death and heal you only to begin again.”

 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” the man choked out, his face turning an ugly shade of puce. “I-It was an a-accident!”

 

“Lies!”

 

Belle swayed unsteadily on her feet as she rose from the chair, hurrying to his side.  “Rumpelstiltskin!”

 

 _“Snap his neck!  Reach in to his chest and rip out his heart.  Crush it before his very eyes and let him die knowing just who he’d offended.  Hang his entrails on the door as a warning to the entire village,”_ the demon continued.  _“Don’t listen to the girl.  She knows nothing.  Listen to me.  It is my power that protects you.”_   He was losing ground with the Spinner as Belle came to rest her uninjured hand on his chest, her lips close to his ear as she pleaded with him.

 

“Rumpel?  Rum, please don’t do this,” she implored, her thumb stroking over the hollow of his throat.  “I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.  He’s drunk and not in full possession of his faculties.  Please, husband.”

 

 “You are my _wife_!  You _will_ have their respect!”

 

Her eyes were large liquid pools of blue, pleading with him.  “Please, husband, show mercy.  There are other ways to punish him for his infraction.”

 

He giggled, the sound high and shrill to her ears.  “No, I think it would be more fun to kill him,” he tittered, tightening his grip.

 

Her face fell as she took a step back, her lower lip quivering.  “Rumpelstiltskin, you’re frightening me.  You’re frightening the children.  Look at them,” she whispered, playing up to his love for them.  “What about your promise?”

 

He turned, the big man still struggling in his grasp.  Baelfire had his arm around Morraine, her face buried in the crook of her brother’s neck so she didn’t have to watch her father commit murder.  Red and Peter were clasped to their grandmother who was staring daggers at him.

 

Belle took his free hand in hers and smoothed her fingers over his knuckles.  “There are other ways to deal with him.  Show the children you aren’t the monster you claim to be, Rumpel.  You’re a good man,” she whispered.  “Don’t let the darkness have you … please.  Don’t give in to your rage.”

 

Rumpelstiltskin’s vision slowly cleared, the darkness receding as he forced the demon back into its cage.  The Dark One spit and clawed and fought him tooth and nail, but the spinner won out.  It took a concentrated effort which left him weak, but he felt a rush of pride that he had succeeded without passing out this time.  He drew strength from the little princess and their children.  As long as he had them, the demon would never wrest control from him.  He dropped the man at Belle’s feet with a command for someone to fetch the magistrate.  The drunkard lay on the floor, gasping for breath and rubbing at his throat.  His friends beat a hasty retreat out the back, not wishing to incur the Dark One’s wrath.

 

He lifted his wife in his arms and set her gently on the table, taking her wrist into his hands to assess the damage.  “It’s broken.”

 

She winced as his fingers brushed against her swelling flesh.  “Ow!” she whimpered, a tear escaping the corner of her eye.  She’d somehow blocked out the pain due to the adrenaline pumping steadily through her veins, but now that the danger had passed, she could feel every stabbing pinpoint of agony.  “It hurts … be careful!” she cried in earnest.

 

His hands took on a faint purplish glow as he drew on his magic, knitting her bones back together.  “I’m sorry, dearest.  It will sting just a bit more and then all will be well,” he crooned softly against her ear as he gathered her closer with his free arm. 

 

Baelfire inched closer as Morraine sank into a chair next to Red.  “Papa?  Are you alright?” he asked worriedly.  It had been quite a while since he’d seen his father lose control. 

 

“I’m fine, Bae,” he answered, unable to meet his son’s eyes.  Now that he was in control of himself, a great wealth of shame pressed down on him.

 

Belle reached out and ruffled Baelfire’s unruly locks.  “Your papa is alright, darling.  He just had a moment there, but he’s ok now.”  At his skeptical look, she assured him.  “I promise we’ll talk more about this when we return home.”

 

By the time Jefferson returned with Graham – who served as the town’s magistrate – Belle’s wrist was fully healed.  “Milord, how may I serve you?” he asked with a slight bow in deference to Rumpelstiltskin’s station. 

 

The sorcerer’s lip curled up in disgust as he pointed one long finger down at the man still moaning pitifully on the floor of the tavern.  “This brute assaulted my lady wife.  He’s to be put in the stocks for one day without respite.  Then he shall serve to dig the new latrines that will serve the house for the needy that Widow Meyers is running.  Perhaps he’ll think twice about manhandling the women of this town.  I hope I’ve made myself clear.  He shall serve as an example as to what I will not tolerate.”

 

Graham nodded and hauled the man to his feet, partly carrying him out of the tavern to the center of the square where he would serve his sentence in view of the entire village.

 

Belle bit her lower lip nervously as she regarded her husband.  She could feel the tension in his arm as he offered it to her to escort her back to the carriage, the children following.  She hoped the altercation wouldn’t deter Granny from allowing the children to visit, but the odds didn’t seem good.  She sighed.  Perhaps they should have stayed home.

 

No one spied the shadowy figure by the window who slinked away in the darkness, of the alley eager to begin his journey back to his master with the news he had to impart.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle fiddled nervously with the handkerchief she’d pulled from her reticule as she sat in the carriage, surreptitiously watching her husband from beneath her lashes.  The linen in her hands resembled shredded wheat.  He’d handed her into the carriage then helped Morraine to climb the few steps.  Baelfire had practically shoved him out of the way in his haste to crawl in and settle on the seat next to his mama.  The more she toyed with the handkerchief, the more he glared daggers at his father, who sat across from her staring listlessly out of the window.  Morraine had fallen asleep, her head lolling gently on Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder, a blanket tucked around her to keep her warm.

 

The tension between them was almost as thick as the silence and Belle was nearly at her wit’s end.  When Baelfire spoke softly her heart took flight and left her gasping in surprise.  “Mama, can we bake cookies when we get home?  I want to try that recipe for almond date cookies that we found in the cookbook.”

 

She knew he was still sore because he didn’t get to go to the sweet shop before leaving the village on top of the scene his father had made.  Their entire afternoon had been preempted by Rumpelstiltskin’s temper, but no one was brave enough to call him on it.  A dark pall had fallen over the enclosed space, almost as if his magic were trying to escape the bonds he held over it.

 

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” she said, patting Bae’s knee and offering him a weak smile.  “I sup-“

 

Her husband’s steely tone cut across her as his amber eyes came to rest on his son.  “Not today, Bae.  I want you and Morraine to gather specimens from the pond in the greenhouse for a biology experiment we’ll be conducting for tomorrow’s lesson.  We’ll be studying in the tower.”

 

Bae’s eyes lit with excitement.  He’d been badgering his father for a month to teach him more about frogs and now he was finally relenting.  It went a long way in appeasing him.  He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.  “Really, papa, you mean it?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin nodded towards his son and went back to watching the scenery.  Baelfire went on to regale his mother about the book on biology they’d found in the library and all the different amphibians they were studying.  He delighted at the fact that Morraine would be less than happy to have to touch one of the slimy frogs.  Belle listened with only half an ear to his excited chatter, more worried than ever about the melancholy her husband had fallen into.  She breathed a sigh of relief as the great iron gates of the Dark Castle loomed up in the distance.

 

Rumpelstiltskin nudged Morraine as the carriage rolled into the courtyard and came to a stop before the steps leading into the Dark Castle.  “Daughter, waken up now.  We’re home.”

 

She rubbed sleepily at her eyes and let out a huge yawn, sitting up next to her father.  “Already?”

 

The four of them disembarked and made their way inside, leaving the castle’s enchantments to see to the care of Vlad and the storage of the carriage.  Belle was barely able to collect Baelfire’s cloak before he was rushing for the corridor that led to the greenhouse, pulling his sister along by her hand and chattering away about their experiment for tomorrow.

 

Rumpelstiltskin leaned back against the front door as it closed, crossing his arms over his chest.  Belle didn’t know what to think of his heavily lidded gaze and the firm set to his jaw as she hung up her cloak on the peg behind the door.  She took a hesitant step towards the Great Hall.  “Shall I make tea or cocoa?  We can drink it while we warm up by the-“

 

“Upstairs!”

 

Her eyes widened at his tone, her lips parting on a gasp.  “I beg your pardon?”

 

He stalked closer to her, his face set into an inscrutable mask.  “Upstairs, pet.  Now!”

 

She swallowed down a snippy retort and bit her lower lip, edging her way to the marble staircase that would carry her up to their chamber.  She glanced over her shoulder, unsurprised that he followed.  Her stomach somersaulted nervously, wondering what he might have in store.  Had she done something to anger him?  She’d often let her mouth get her into trouble and suffered her father’s wrath, but she couldn’t imagine how she had upset her husband.  She was confident he wouldn’t hurt her.  He’d seemed too enraged that harm had befallen her at the hands of the drunkard at the tavern.

 

Belle was trembling with nervous anticipation as she entered their bedchamber and turned to face him, clasping her hands before her demurely.  She studied him from beneath her lashes.  His jaw was still set harshly, his lips pressed into a thin bloodless line.  “Rumpel?”

 

“Take off your clothes,” he commanded as he used a swift burst of magic to close and lock the doors, barring any escape or intrusion. 

 

She was so stunned by his command, she stood frozen in place.  Did she really want him to take her when he was in such a mood?  “Rum, I-“

 

“Remove your clothes or I shall do it for you,” he hissed, taking a step towards her. 

 

Her hands shook as she reached for the laces at the front of her bodice, tugging insistently at the knot.  He paced before her like a caged animal, removing the intricately knotted cravat at his throat and tossing it over a chair.  The plum gown loosened enough for her to slide the long sleeves down her arms and push it over her hips to pool on the floor at her feet.  Her petticoats followed and still he removed no more of his own clothing.  Boots, stockings, garters were quickly discarded until she stood before him in nothing but her cotton shift and lace drawers.

 

“All of it, pet.”  He gave her his back as she peeled the remaining articles from her body, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to calm the riot of emotions coursing through his wiry frame.  “Lie on the bed, atop the duvet.”

 

His name was a whisper on her lips as she did as bade, but she closed her eyes.  She would not look at him if he decided to … she cut the thought off, refusing to believe he would do such a thing as to take her in anger.  Her breath caught painfully in her chest as his boot heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor, then softly against the plush carpet as he neared her.  She tensed as he rested his hand against her upper thigh, his thumb brushing softly against her creamy flesh.

 

He leaned over her, sighing against her lips as he brushed her hair away from her brow.  “Don’t fear me, my love,” he whispered, his heart hammering in his chest.  “Please, Belle, don’t be afraid of me.”

 

Belle opened her eyes, realizing each word that tumbled from his lips seemed to be torn from him.  She could literally see the internal struggle battling for dominance on his visage.  She wanted to reach out and pull him to her, to comfort and console him, but she was still hesitant.  “I trust you,” she answered steadily, reaching up to cup his face in her hands and press a gentle kiss to his lips.  “What are you going to do to me?”

 

He leaned into her touch, his lips brushing over the delicate skin of her wrist before he pulled away.  “I just want to see for myself that you’re unharmed.”

 

She huffed out her breath, relieved that she’d been right all along.  “You could’ve told me that, Rumpelstiltskin,” she murmured irritably.  “Instead of scaring me half to death.”  She held out her left arm with its newly mended wrist for his inspection. 

 

A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he took in the bruises on her elbow and shoulder where she’d landed on the floor.  His eyes darkened considerably at the thought of her having to ride all the way up the mountain when she was suffering.  “Do they hurt?” he snarled, biting back a wave of darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.  The Dark One was fighting valiantly to escape his cage.  He’d made it no secret that he viewed Belle as a threat to his very existence, yet he also recognized her as his.  He wanted nothing more than the pleasure of tearing that brute into tiny bloody pieces for causing her harm.  Rumpelstiltskin thought the demon needed to get his priorities in order.  Whether the demon wanted her for himself or not, it was a moot point.  He would never allow him to touch her.  Not while there was breath left in his body.

 

_“That can be arranged, Spinner.”_

_“Piss off!”_

 

“I’m fine, husband.  They aren’t the first bruises I’ve acquired over the years.  I’m quite accident prone at times,” she said with a chuckle.  She smiled up at him as he healed another bruise on her left hip and one on her knee. 

 

He turned her onto her stomach and inspected every inch of her before he was assured all was well.  He backed away from the bed as she sat up.  “Rum, what’s wrong?  And don’t tell me it’s no matter.  I can feel it.”

 

“Belle,” he said warningly.

 

“Rumpel, don’t shut me out,” she pleaded, rising from the bed and wrapping her arms about his waist, tucking her head beneath his chin.  She nuzzled him like a cat, offering him comfort if he’d only take it.  “Talk to me.”

 

He cradled her face in his warm palms, searching her eyes.  “I lost control,” he admitted, ignoring the taunting voice of the demon and trusting his heart instead.  “I lost it and the Dark One was fully in control for the first time in months.  If you hadn’t -”

 

“So, your curse … you’re two different entities? He’s like a parasite?” she asked curiously, laying her hand aside his neck so she could stroke over the hollow of his throat with her thumb.

 

He nodded and leaned down to press his brow to hers.  “Yes.  It’s not as bad now as when I first took on the curse.  There were days where I had no recollection of what I’d done.  It was my fear for Bae that spurred me to wrest control from it.”  He sat down on the hope chest at the foot of the bed and pulled her down onto his lap.  “Bae’s love for me, even with the curse … it grounds me.  It prevents me from losing myself completely.  That bond of love only grew stronger when Morraine joined our family.”

 

“You’re afraid the Dark One will harm the children if he gains full control, aren’t you?” she asked.

 

“Yes … or you. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you or my children, Belle.  This castle, my deals, my magic … it’s all just things, possessions.  Those things are meaningless without you three.  Nothing means more to me than my family.”

 

Belle wrapped her arms about his neck and let him rest his head against the crook of her neck, her heart leaping frantically at his confession.  No one had ever thought she mattered before.  She knew her father loved her, but she was merely a pawn for political gain to him.  “Then it’s good that you’re so adept at keeping the Dark One at bay.”

 

“Belle,” he began, his brow creased in a frown.  “You saw what could happen –“

 

“What _could_ happen, Rumpel.  You came back to yourself and beat back the darkness.  You did the right thing and spared him despite your inner turmoil.”  She pressed her lips to his for a lingering kiss, her fingers carding through the curls at his temple.  “You’re a good man, my husband.”

 

“I frightened you and the children,” he mumbled, his shoulders drooping dejectedly.  “Hell, sometimes I frighten myself.”

 

“You were afraid.  You felt threatened.  That man harmed someone you care about and you let your anger goad you.”

 

“Stop making excuses for me, pet.  I’m a monster.”

 

“You’re _not_.  No matter how many times you say it … it doesn’t mean it’s true.  I couldn’t ask for a more caring husband.”  She nuzzled her nose against his.  “You were protecting what’s yours.”

 

“But with this power I have, I can’t allow my temper to come into it,” he protested.

 

“And you realize that, Rum.  A monster would have neither regret nor remorse over what happened today and clearly you do.  You just have to work on your control.”  Her nimble fingers tugged at the golden clasps of his waistcoat.  “Now stop arguing with me when we can be doing something much more pleasant.”

 

 Rumpelstiltskin pushed his worries aside as she pushed the garment off his shoulders and kissed a wet path over his jaw.  He could worry about what had happened earlier when he didn’t have his precious wife wriggling pleasantly on his lap.  He might even talk to her about it.  With her touch and her hot little mouth teasing his overheated flesh, even the Dark One’s whisperings faded into the background, leaving nothing but Belle and the light she always brought to his heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m so so sorry I haven’t posted an update for this story in so long. Still trying to get over some health issues. I’m regarding this week’s double posting as a step in the right direction. This chapter is dedicated to Licioic, my darling friend. She’s made the most delightful digital oil paintings for this fic and inspired me to get busy :D The next chapter will feature the children’s sleepover and Belle has an enlightening conversation with Granny over tea. Poor Rum. I wonder how he’s going to handle having guests!?! Hugs to all who have shown love and support for this story.


	20. The Lucas Clan Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: As a birthday treat for my darling readers, I am posting BOTH of my updates today instead of on Friday!! I do hope you all enjoy, dearies!!

 

        Belle peered closely at the fashion plates spread out over the coffee table in the Great Hall as she sipped her morning tea.  She was more than thankful to Mrs. Davenport for including them in her order.  Morraine sat on the plush Agrabahan rug on the opposite side of the table, perusing the dresses more suited for her young age.  They’d come home days ago from their disastrous trip to the village to find a wedding invitation which Rumpelstiltskin had insisted they attend.  When she’d learned it was for the woman he’d helped several weeks ago, she’d happily agreed, anxious to meet her.

        “Mama, look!” Morraine gushed excitedly, pushing one of the plates over for her mother to see.  “I’m not enthused with the dress, but look at her hair.  Do you think you could do mine like that?”

        Belle set her cup down and studied the upswept hairstyle on the plate.  It shouldn’t be too difficult to arrange her daughter’s hair in such a way.  The curls at her crown, interspersed with tiny braids and a rope of pearls would complement her delicate beauty.  “I think you would look lovely, darling.  Have you seen anything else you like? You are going to have to choose a style for your gown.”

        “Yeah, ‘Raine, I doubt papa will allow you to show up in only your skivvies,” Baelfire chortled over his book as he lounged indolently in his chair.

        Morraine stuck her tongue out at him before choosing to ignore him completely.  Belle gave him an indulgent smile.  “Don’t think it’s going to be so easy for you, young man,” she admonished.  “You are going to have to visit the tailor with your father to make your own selections.”

        His face fell, causing his sister to smirk in smug satisfaction.  “But –“

        A thunderous crash in the main hallway cut the boy off abruptly.  “Bloody Fuck!” quickly followed in Rumpelstiltskin’s high pitched tone.  Three necks craned themselves to see out the open doors into the corridor as a myriad of items clattered and clinked on the marble floor. 

Belle raised a brow, giving her children a stern look.  “Don’t even think of repeating that vile word spewing from your father’s mouth,” she warned.

        The children blushed faintly, giving her cause to think she’d been too late with the warning as they chorused, “Yes, Mama.”

        “Morraine,” she said, setting her cup aside and climbing to her feet.  “Tidy up this mess while I see to Rumpelstiltskin and then we’ll see about making those tarts for our guests this afternoon.”

        Baelfire perked up, rubbing his stomach in anticipation of the sweets.  When Belle made her way through the clutter in the hall to stand near the epicenter of the disaster, her husband was chest deep in _things_ and grumbling fiercely.  “I know I put it in here … children meddling places they have no business … not my fault …”

        Belle cleared her throat as she crossed her arms over her chest.  She pursed her lips in an effort to maintain a calm façade when she really wanted to burst forth with laughter at his befuddled expression.  “Um … husband, might I inquire what you’re doing?”

        His mouth worked furiously to come up with a feasible explanation and when finding none left him gaping like a fish newly plucked from the river.  His cheeks darkened ever so slightly beneath the green gold hue of his skin and Belle was fascinated to see that he was capable of blushing.  “Spring cleaning?”

        “Rum, it’s the middle of November.”

        “Ahh … yes.”  His face screwed up in a grimace as he flourished his hand and left one index finger pointing upwards.  “Would you believe-“

        “No.”

        “Fine!” he snapped, giving her his back as he continued to rummage through the mess.  Her tiny giggle brought him up short.  “Don’t you have anything better to do than stand about gawping at your husband?”

        “Oh, most certainly,” she fairly purred, “but my duties aren’t half as entertaining as this.”

        “Very funny, pet.” 

        “Would you like me to help you?” she asked, wading through the mess to his side.  “What are you looking for anyway?”

        He looked down at the many jewels, spools of gold thread, clocks, baskets, jewelry boxes and a myriad of other things he’d collected over the years, frowning.  “Well, it’s about the size of a grapefruit and looks similar to a crystal ball, but there’s what appears to be blue and purple smoke trapped within.  I know I put it in here.”

        Belle dislodged a length of gold thread from her ankle which had somehow become entangled and began sifting through the rubbish.  “What does it do?” she asked curiously.

        He contemplated his answer for a moment, sitting down on what looked to be a perfectly normal damask silk covered ottoman.  However, the moment he settled, the front left leg gave out and he slid off onto the floor with an ‘oomph’.  Belle bit her lip over his disgruntled expression.  He fidgeted sheepishly as she crawled over to him.  “Trick leg.  Forgot about that.”

        His hand came down upon a simple gold circlet inlaid with sapphires, he’d dealt for with a minor king.  He set it on her head and smiled, his eyes darkening.  “For my princess,” he murmured, stealing a quick kiss.  “Perhaps you’ll wear it for me tonight?” he asked with a lascivious waggle of his brows.

        Belle blushed prettily.  “We’ll see.”  Her gaze moved back to the pile of detritus from the closet.  “So … this orb?”

        “Ah, yes!  The orb of imagination.  It is reputed to have been crafted by Loki himself.”

        “What are you going to do with it once you find it?”

        He tugged on the braid which fell over her left shoulder, pulling her closer until she was practically in his lap.  “It’s a surprise.”

        “Hmmph!” she huffed, miffed that he wasn’t willing to share with her.  She rose from the mess and made her way back to the Great Hall, her hips swaying as she went, knowing it would provoke him.  “Well, husband, enjoy your _surprise_.  I’m sure you’ll have no trouble cleaning up after yourself.”

        His smoky amber gaze followed her delightful backside as she moved, making him wonder why he was sitting amidst a pile of junk when he could be having tea with her.  His jaw fell slack as she turned to him and murmured, “Wouldn’t it have been easier to use a summoning charm for the orb rather than sifting through this mess yourself?”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s laughter followed her back into the room, utterly delighted with her.  She never failed to keep him on his toes.  It didn’t occur to him to mourn the way he’d been before she’d come into his life … the happiness blooming in his chest wouldn’t let him.  “Cheeky wench,” he murmured, using his magic to find the item.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        It was still relatively early in the day, not yet lunchtime, when Rumpelstiltskin found himself at loose ends in his tower.  He felt as if he were spending too much time with Belle as of late.  He wanted to be with her all the time, but he didn’t want her to think he was hovering.  But wasn’t it natural to feel such in the first bloom of love?  His knees buckled and he landed hard on the stool at his work table.  Love? _Love?!_ He was _not_ in love with his wife. Was he? Ugh!!  He banged his head on the table with a groan.  He couldn’t have fallen in love with her, could he?  It would definitely explain the need to spend time with her outside their bedchamber.  The Dark One snickered at the back of his mind, delighted by his host’s newest dilemma.

        He pushed the thought aside and tried to focus on the fertility potion he was making for George’s queen.  They’d been trying to conceive for years with no success.  If the potion were successful, the king had promised unlimited access to Lake Nostos.  It was rather tragic the lake, with its precious waters, just happened to be on the king’s lands.  Rumpelstiltskin had no liking for the swaggering monarch and couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of a mini version of him running about, but it would behoove him to have access to the waters to use in his potions.

        The image of a tiny version of Belle drifted across his mind’s eye.  A sweet little cherub swathed in a ruffled pink gown, her cheeks as rosy as her little mouth, with his dark eyes peering up at him.  Would Belle want to have a child with him?  The jar of beetle eyes crashed to the hardwood floor, smashing and sending the little black orbs scattering across the room. “Damn and blast!”

        The sorcerer dropped his head into his hands and groaned.  He couldn’t even brew a simple potion without being interrupted by thoughts of his precious wife.  This wasn’t supposed to happen!  He’d only acquired her to help him with the children.  They deserved a mother after all.  She wasn’t supposed to be so bloody perfect for him too.  She wasn’t supposed to be the siren song in his blood, he mused.  She was probably off right now doing some motherly thing with the children.  She didn’t need him trailing after her like some lovesick swain.  Nowhere in their contract did it state that she would come to love him. 

        His breath came sharp and rapid as he rose to pace the confines of his tower, feeling as if the walls were closing in on him.  No, no, no, no, no! He was not going to ruin their tentative relationship by bringing love into the equation!  Did she expect it? Ack!!  He flopped down wearily upon the chaise he’d brought up to his tower for Belle when she’d expressed a desire to read up there, throwing an arm up over his eyes.

        _“For fuck sakes, spinner, you’re pathetic!”_ the Dark One growled, belittling him.  _“Either you love the girl or not.  Why do you have to make it so difficult?”_

        “Like you know _anything_ about love!” Rumpelstiltskin spat, trying to block out the voice.  For once, the demon retreated farther into his cage to leave him be for the time being to muddle through his thoughts.

        He had to be sure.  He’d clearly made a mistake with his first marriage and wasn’t too keen on the idea of mucking up his second.  He’d thought he had loved Milah, but what he’d felt for her was paltry and weak compared to what he felt for Belle.  It was the little things that came to mind when he thought of his precious wife.  Her pleasure over a trip to the book shop.  Where most women would want furs and jewels, his Belle wanted books.  A smile over tea, a kiss to his cheek while he was spinning, his head cradled in her lap as she read in the library, the pout which pursed her lips when he was forced to leave for a deal.  Each one left him feeling a warmth coursing through his chest which only seemed to grow.  And he couldn’t even contemplate what she made him feel when they were alone in their chambers wrapped within the other’s embrace.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s shrill giggling laughter filled the tower, echoing down to the grounds through the open window.  Anyone who might have heard him would have thought him mad.  He was in love with his wife.  His _wife!!_ Oh, gods, what was he to do now?  He couldn’t just run to tell her.  If she didn’t feel the same, it would surely give her cause to leave.  Wouldn’t it?  She seemed happy with how things were.  Why would she want them to change?

        No, he decided with a fervent shake of his head.  He would just keep his feelings to himself.  It was easy to love Belle, but he knew he was a monster, despite what she and the children thought.  Pretty young maidens didn’t fall in love with the beast in her storybooks and they certainly didn’t in real life.  Yes, it was best to keep his feelings hidden and safely tucked away in his broken and damaged heart.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        “Bae, grab a mitt and take that batch out of the oven, please,” Belle instructed as she moved to Morraine’s area of the work table and helped her assemble the newest batch of peach tarts.  “No, darling.  Group the slices closer together … yes, like that.”

        “I’m so glad you found that cookbook in the library, Mama,” Bae said as he set the pan on the counter and began moving the tarts to a cooling rack with a spatula.  “Papa is sure to love these since they have peaches in them.  You know how much he adores peaches.”

        “Which is why there are so many peach trees in the greenhouse,” Morraine added as she placed another uncooked tart on the pan.

        Belle folded the edges of dough over the peach filling and sprinkled cinnamon sugar atop another finished pastry and added it to the pan.  “I’m just happy that these are turning out so well.  Before I married your papa, I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen.”

        “You’re a natural, mama,” the boy beamed at her. 

        Belle glowed with pride, a feeling of accomplishment settling over her.  She never thought she’d have a chance to do something like this with her children.  A common enough occurrence for any mother to enjoy with her family, but not one for a princess.  She had one more reason to be thankful for the deal she’d made with Rumpelstiltskin.  “Morraine, fetch the basked off the table, would you?  I think these will make a fine treat for your friends when they come for tea, don’t you?”

        “If my brother doesn’t eat them all before I can pack the basket,” Morraine retorted, whacking her brother with a wooden spoon.

        “Hey!  You got me sticky!”

        Belle laughed.  “Alright, you two, that’s enough.”

        “Misbehaving, are we?” Rumpelstiltskin inquired as he stepped out of the shadows near the door.

        Belle whirled about, wiping her floury hands on her apron.  She bit her lip nervously, knowing she must look a fright.  The three of them had smudges of flour all over them and a fine dusting of the substance clung to Baelfire’s hair from running his fingers through it.

        “Papa!” Morraine squealed happily.  “Look!  We made tarts.”

        “I see that,” he drawled, his eyes resting upon Belle as he answered.

        Baelfire filled the basket and covered it with a cloth to preserve their warmth.  “We made enough so we could add the basket to the carriage for Red and Peter to nibble on.”

        Rumpelstiltskin nodded, smiling at his son’s enthusiasm.  “Why don’t you run along and put it in the carriage.  I’ve already brought it around.”  His eyes were heavily lidded as he approached his wife, the kitchen door swinging shut behind his children.

        Belle was all too familiar with that look in her husband’s eyes.  The same one that never failed to cause heat to spread rapidly through her veins.  He stopped mere inches from her, surveying the mess on her work table. “Um …” she cleared her throat.  “Would you like one?  A tart, I mean?” she asked, taking one from the cooling rack and bringing it up to his lips.

        Rumpelstiltskin opened his mouth, his teeth sinking into the pastry, using it as an excuse to quell the quip struggling to break free.  She was too good for some of his dark humor and he refused to upset her delicate sensibilities with a crass comment.  Her own lips parted slightly, her gaze flickering between his eyes and mouth.  His hand came up to wrap gently around her wrist which held the pastry, his thumb caressing the pulse point fluttering rapidly beneath her skin.  He swallowed the bit of tart and hummed in pleasure at the sweetness of the sugar complementing the tartness of the peaches.  It reminded him of his darling bride and the complexity of her nature.

        “Delicious,” he fairly purred, his arm wrapping about her waist and pulling her flush with his body.  He reveled in the tiny gasp which slipped past her lips.  He bent slightly to nuzzle at the pulse point beneath her jaw, his tongue darting out to taste her.  “But not nearly as sweet as you, pet.”

        He took the tart from her hand and set it back onto the table for later.  He’d much rather sample his wife’s delights than indulge his sweet tooth.  He backed her across the kitchen, his acute hearing picking up the running footsteps of his children as they ran back inside.  She already had a protest ready on her tongue.  “Rum, the children,” she objected, assuming a stern look that worked quite well on his son, but which had no effect whatsoever on him.  “We can’t let them see us like this!”

        His eyes were the color of molten bronze as his lips slanted over hers, his hands tight about her waist as he continued on his path.  Belle’s floury fingers delved into his hair as she surrendered to the heat and passion he evoked within her, willingly following his lead.  The darkness pressed in on her lids as he led her into the food pantry and closed the door behind them.  A shiver coursed through her – the pantry being decidedly colder than the rest of the kitchen – but she knew not whether it was caused from the chill or her husband’s demanding kisses.

        “Gods, Belle!  I’ll never be able to eat peach tarts without thinking of you and how wonderful you taste,” he murmured as he sucked the tender lobe of her ear into his mouth. 

        Belle moaned softly.  “Just remind me never … oh! … to make them when we have … yes right there! …guests.”

        There was nothing languid or gentle in his kisses now as his arousal pressed against her belly His fingers slowly hitched up the skirt of her day dress, higher and higher until his sharp claws tickled lightly at the back of her knee.  She pressed closer, seeking friction where she needed it most.  She reached for the laces on his leather trousers and screamed!

        With a burst of magic, her husband was ripped from her arms and hurled out the door to land ignominiously on his arse, two stools clattering out of the way as he crashed into them next to the work table.  The pantry door flapped open and closed several times as Belle inched forward to see if he was injured.

        Morraine and Baelfire burst into the kitchen, the latter running towards the oven to rescue the last pan of tarts from burning.  Rumpelstiltskin shook his head to clear it before glowering at the enchanted pantry which had served his family so well despite its everlasting hatred for the sorcerer.  “Rum?  Are you alright, darling?” Belle asked, peeking timidly around the doorjamb.

        “Do I bloody look alright?”

        Morraine’s gaze ping ponged between her parents, her sharp emerald eyes missing nothing.  Her mother’s lips were swollen, the top button of her bodice hanging askew and her father was dusted in flour when he’d been nowhere near the counter, the substance having transferred to him from Belle’s clothing.  “Hm … papa?” she asked, a smirk lifting one corner of her mouth.  “You have a bit of four,” she pointed to her own face as he lifted a hand to swipe at his own.  “Yeah, just there.”

        “Thank you, daughter, for your keen observations,” he snarled petulantly as he hefted himself off the floor and batted away some of the flour clinging to him.

        “Geez, papa, you almost let the tarts burn!” Bae scolded with a winning smile.  He leaned over to whisper in his sister’s ear.  “I bet they were kissing again.”

        Morraine rolled her eyes.  “You don’t say.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        “They’re here!  Mama!  Papa!  They’re here!” Baelfire whooped happily as he bounded down the marble staircase.

        “Bae!” Belle scolded as she came out of the Great Hall, her hand tucked into the crook of Rumpelstiltskin’s elbow.  “That’s no way to behave.  Now go back upstairs and come down the right way.”

        Morraine snickered at him as she passed him on her way down, her shoulders squared and her head held high, the very picture of a high born lady.  She was determined to take her mother’s lessons to heart even though she was simply a peasant draped in finery.  Belle had taken her aside and eased her troubles, telling her that anyone could be a fine lady if they just put forth the effort.  If a prince could be a scoundrel, a peasant girl could be queen.  Her stepmother was a peculiar miss, but she was also the kindest and most caring woman Morraine had ever had the good fortune to meet.

        The sorcerer smiled proudly at his children, marveling over the progress Belle had made with them in the last month.  The entry doors were thrown wide as the carriage trundled to a stop in the courtyard.  The family waited atop the steps, just inside the castle as to avoid the blistering cold.  Red and Peter were wide-eyed with excitement as they bounded out of the carriage and up the steps to greet their friends, leaving their grandmother to alight by herself and follow them.

        “You’re here!” Morraine squealed.

        “ … so exciting, ‘Raine!” Red gushed, returning her friend’s hug.

        “ … Granny insisted on bringing her crossbow …” Peter said with a roll of his eyes.

        Bae craned his neck to see if he could spot it on the old woman.  “Seriously?  Can we see it?”

        “No, you may not,” Rumpelstiltskin growled.  He turned to the woman now shaking snow from the cloak about her shoulders and gave a respectful bow.  “Widow Lucas, welcome to our home.”

        Red dipped into a curtsey as she greeted Belle.  “Thank you so much for inviting us, m’lady.”

        Peter dipped into a bow as well.  “And the peach tarts and mulled cider were a wonderful treat.  Thank you.”

        “Charming as usual,” Belle said, ruffling his dark hair.  “Come in, all of you.  The corridor is drafty and we’ll be better served in the Great Hall where it’s warm.”

        “Did she really bring her crossbow?” Rumpelstiltskin whispered to Red, who nodded sagely.

        “I surely did.  There’s no telling what creatures lurk in the forest lining the path.  I’ve got two younguns to look after,” Granny said with a firm nod as Baelfire relieved her of her cloak.  “And don’t think I’m afraid to use it.”

        The mage grimaced and led them into the hall where tea and pastries were already set out on the coffee table.  “Belle, darling, why don’t you enjoy afternoon tea while I take the children upstairs to the ballroom.”

        Belle arched a brow as Granny settled on the settee beside her.  “Why are you going to the ballroom?”

        “I’ve prepared some entertainments for them.”  He gestured to the falling snow beyond the massive windows that lined the wall.  “They won’t be able to play outside.  We’d lose them in a snowdrift or they might fall ill.  It’s better for them to stay indoors.”

        Granny regarded him shrewdly, pleased with his thoughtfulness.  Belle nodded.  “Alright, darling,” she murmured as he leaned over to kiss her cheek. 

        “Enjoy your tea, ladies.”

        Belle blushed prettily as he walked away, turning to give her a wink just before he disappeared out into the corridor.  Her heart fluttered.  Would she ever lose that feeling of utter weightlessness that overwhelmed her when he was near?  She recognized it as desire, but somehow she thought it might mean more.  She shook her head and reached for the teapot.  She was being silly and imagining things certainly.

        Granny accepted the fine china cup and saucer from Belle and smiled as the aromatic brew washed over her tongue.  “This is fine tea, Lady Belle.  It’s unlike any I’ve had before.”

        “Rumpel’s own blend,” she replied proudly.  “Most of the ingredients can be found in his greenhouse, but there are some he purchased in the East to give it that hint of spice.”

        “The Dark Castle – from what I’ve seen – is not what I was expecting,” the woman admitted.

        Belle grinned wryly.  “You were expecting cobwebs and spiders big as your hand? Skeletons stacked in the corners and magic filling the air?  When I first agreed to my deal with him, I must confess it was how I pictured his home.”  She took a dainty sip from her cup.  “I assure you, Granny, Rumpel keeps his magic far away from his family.  Anything remotely dangerous is under lock and key.”

        The Widow Lucas seemed to relax after that, enjoying her tea as well as her lady’s company.  They began to discuss projects Belle wanted to implement in the village, including the apothecary she’d mentioned to her husband.  She was able to convince her new friend it would benefit the village and perhaps bring in new commerce as word spread of the Dark One’s newest business venture.  Granny told her of the schoolhouse which had nearly fallen to ruin, the schoolmarm holding her lessons at the inn in inclimate weather.  This intrigued Belle.  If the schoolhouse could be repaired, she wondered if Rumpelstiltskin would allow the children to attend lessons with their friends.  She might enjoy helping out if he didn’t have any objections. 

        After tea, she took Granny on a tour of the Dark Castle, making sure she stayed far away from Rumpel’s tower and the corridor leading down into the dungeons.  No need to scar the poor woman.  They’d just entered the library, chatting amiably about the new home for the needy, when she heard it.  A loud clang and a giggle.

        “What was that?” Granny asked, a frown marring her brow.

        “It sounded like it came from the ballroom.”  Belle didn’t know if she should be worried over her husband’s giggling or alarmed.

        She tried not to show her growing distress as she made her way to the room Rumpelstiltskin had set aside to entertain the children.  Why hadn’t she asked for specific details? she groaned inwardly.  If he damaged the children’s chances of having their friends visit again by pulling some ludicrous stunt she was going to be highly upset.

        The heavy oak doors stood open wide, making it easy for her to see into it.  The parquet floor and high vaulted ceilings were no more.  The intricately carved french doors which led out onto a balcony overlooking the snowcapped mountains had disappeared.  If she didn’t know better, she would believe she’d been transported into a clearing in the Dark Forest.  Her darkening cerulean gaze searched the area for her children, her lips parting on a gasp of surprise as it settled on a rather short knight with a clumsy gait.  That one had to be Baelfire.

        “Rumpelstiltskin!” she called when she wasn’t able to locate him.

        He sauntered over to her, dressed in his all black finery, his hands clasped behind his back.  When he reached her, he took her hand and dipped into a gallant bow.  “My lady wife,” he cooed, dropping a kiss to her knuckles.

        “What have you done?  What’s happened to the ballroom?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch.  “And is that … is that a horse?”  It was indeed a horse, though a small one.

        “Calm yourself, dearest,” he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.  “There is no cause for alarm.”  He pointed to the sphere hovering over his left shoulder.  “The orb of imagination.  Whatever the children wish to do is brought to life through the power of their imagination.  I had to tweak it a bit to make sure no mischief befell them, but so far it’s worked quite splendidly.”

        Granny regarded him down the length of her nose and cast him a baleful glare.  “So, if they wish to become dragon slayers are you going to conjure one for them?”

        “Of course not, madam.  I believe I just explained that I tweaked it.  If there is any danger to their desires, the orb will simply not obey.”

        Belle stared at her surroundings in amazement at her husband’s talent.  The sun was shining brightly, a pleasant spring breeze wafting gently through the trees.  Trees, for heaven’s sake!  Tall majestic pines which reached higher than where the ceiling should be.  She could feel the tall grass tickle at her ankles and smell the perfume of wildflowers in the air.  “This is astonishing,” she murmured in disbelief.

        “It’s something all right,” the widow snarked.  “So whose mutton-headed idea was this?”

         Rumpelstiltskin led his wife over to a dais that had been erected with two throne like chairs and several smaller ones on either side.  It reminded Belle of a tournament her father had insisted she attend.  Peter and Morraine sat quietly, bedecked in a splendid array of colors, looking as if they’d just stepped out of the pages of a fairy tale.  Her daughter even had a conical shaped hat perched atop her golden curls.

        “Are you sure this is safe?” Belle asked, wringing her hands nervously as a short knight pranced about on his diminutive steed.

        “I would never endanger the children, pet,” the sorcerer said, resting his hand over his heart.

        Baelfire ran up to his mother clad in shiny silver and gold armor and dropped to one knee.  The visor on his helmet flopped over his eyes and she tried valiantly not to laugh as he struggled to fix it.  “M’lady!  Won’t you bestow a token upon me so that I might have luck in the tournament?” he asked, his dark sable eyes glinting with excitement.

        “What tournament?” Granny asked from Belle’s right.

        “Oh dear,” she groaned.  “I do believe they’re going to joust.  Rum, tell me they’re not going to joust!”

        “They’re going to joust,” he twittered, his giggle filling the clearing.

        “Don’t worry, mama,” Morraine said from Belle’s left.  “Papa padded them rather well beneath their armor and they’re not using real lances.  Show her, Bae.”  She went over to stand beside her brother.

        Belle screamed as her son stepped back and rammed the lance into his sister’s stomach.  His laughter was almost as impish as his father’s.  Upon the point of the lance touching Morraine, the entire weapon disappeared in a puff of smoke.

        “I told you not to worry, dearest.”

        Belle grumbled beneath her breath as she reached into her pocket and retrieved her handkerchief, tying it on the end of Bae’s lance.  “There you are, son.  Please be careful.”

        “Red has already unseated him twice,” Rumpelstiltskin shared with them.  “Give her a few more years and she may want to join the king’s army.”

        “My granddaughter will not be joining the army.  I won’t stand for it.”  A brief look passed between the woman and the sorcerer and he gave a slight nod, understanding dawning in his eyes.  No, Red wouldn’t be allowed to go off on her own for quite a few years, at least until she had control over her problem.

        As Baelfire mounted the black and white gelding which had been nibbling grass along the tree line, Rumpelstiltskin called for them to take their places, drawing forth a long golden horn. 

        “Let the games begin!” he cried and blew on the trumpet.

        Belle closed her eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry, dearies, I went over so this chapter will be split into two parts :D I hope everyone enjoyed this first part. Thank you all so much for the love and support you’ve shown for this fic. If I didn’t get a chance to respond to your reviews, please forgive me. It’s been a busy week <3


	21. The Lucas Clan Part II

 

        “No fair!” Baelfire cried out in a petulant tone as Red unseated him for the third time.  He swiped at the large orange x which had appeared on his armor from Red’s lance.  “I want a rematch.”

        Rumpelstiltskin smiled gently at his son and ruffled his dark locks.  “She won fair and square, my boy.  No reason to pout.  You rode well and your aim was true.  Red was just a bit quicker.  There will be no rematch as it is Morraine’s turn to choose our next adventure.”

        Baelfire scuffed the toe of his boot against the grass covering the parquet floor and hung his head.  “Why do the girls get to go first, Papa?”

        “Have you no chivalry, my son?” he asked quietly, pulling the boy off to the side so his words of wisdom wouldn’t be mocked by his friends.  “You are soon to be a man, Bae.  You need to realize that our ladies are precious.  They give us beauty, intelligence and when you choose the one you wish to share your life with, she will give you untold love and support you in your endeavors.  She will give you a family to call your own and she will fight for you with her last breath.  They are to be treated with respect and honor.  Now do you understand that by letting them go first in your game, you are honoring them and showing them the respect they deserve?”

        “Papa,” Baelfire snorted, giving him a dubious look.  “Just yesterday, ‘Raine shoved a salamander down my trousers!  Shouldn’t she respect me too?”

        The mage bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his laughter.  “I said when you choose your future wife, not your sister.  They’re allowed their pranks, but they still get to go first.  It’s good practice for later in life.”

        Baelfire reached out and tugged on his sleeve as he moved to turn away.  “Papa?”

        “Yes, son?”

        “Did you choose well when you married my mother?” he asked, his sable eyes boring into his father’s.

        Rumpelstiltskin sighed and lowered his gaze, fighting back a wave of anger at the mention of his former wife.  “I thought I had at the time.  I was mistaken,” he admitted ruefully. “My time with her wasn’t all bad, though.  It got me you.”

        He grinned back at his father, the one person in his life he knew would never abandon him or turn his back on him.  He was the center of his whole world.  “And Belle?”

        His lips quirked up into a happy smile as his amber gaze sought out his wife who was chatting quietly with Widow Lucas.  “Aye, Bae.  I think so.”

He swung his arm around Baelfire’s shoulders as the boy returned his grin and led him back towards his sister and their friends.  “Alright, my girl.  What adventure will your imagination conjure for us?” he asked, playing the part of the showman for the children.  Red bounced up and down on the balls of her feet and clapped her hands while the boys waited impatiently.

        Morraine bit her lip uncertainly – a habit she’d recently picked up from her stepmother – as her father plucked the orb from the air and placed it in her hands.  “I think …”  She glanced over at Belle with a devilish gleam in her eyes.  “I think I want to dance under the stars,” she breathed wistfully, closing her eyes and focusing on the image in her mind.

        Color and light surrounded them, creating a vortex of images swirling by too swiftly to track with the naked eye.  The forest melted away, the grass becoming a sleek marble floor, the trees melding into ornate wall sconces that attached to walls draped in silks.  There was no ceiling, leaving the sky above dotted with a myriad of stars and a crescent moon to lend its luminance.  Light tinkling music filled the air from instruments which had no musicians and the children gasped as the girls were draped in formal ball gowns and the boys in fine suits.

        Baelfire looked down at his elegant purple brocade frock coat with gold trim and winked at his sister.  “Nice one, Morraine.”

        Granny made a sound somewhat reminiscent of a dying chimera as she plucked at the skirt of a heavy ivory damask gown with lilac trim.  “When did I become a part of this nonsense?”

        Belle twirled about, her own skirts of robin’s egg blue swirling around her legs.  “When you entered the castle, perhaps?” she quipped.  “Rather brave of you, I might add.”

        The woman snorted and resumed her seat, which had morphed into a cozy chair next to a sofa and settee.  She prevailed herself of the tea on an ornate gold tray sitting on the low table, steam curling welcomingly from the teapot’s curved spout.

        Rumpelstiltskin arched a brow at his daughter who blushed guiltily.  She’d adorned him in a heavy brocade frock coat, gold in color with ivory trim, a waistcoat of the same color blue as Belle’s gown and white leather pants.  He pulled at the snowy white cravat at his throat, the material far too tight.  “Daughter, when have you ever seen me wear white?”

        “Um … never?” she snarked, taking Peter’s proffered hand and allowing him to lead her onto the parquet dance floor.  The sorcerer scowled blackly at the boy draped in ebony silk, thinking he looked like a rogue come to steal away his daughter.  Baelfire twirled Red past him, her scarlet gown clinging to her newly developing curves.

        Belle chuckled softly at the look of panic on her husband’s face.  “Rum, it’s alright, darling.  You just have to accept the fact that our children are growing up.”

        “But … but … they’re only fourteen, Belle!” he hissed in an aside.  “Look!  That boy is holding my daughter entirely too close!”

        She placed her hand on his elegant sleeve to prevent him from doing something he’d later come to regret.  If he interrupted Morraine’s dance with Peter, snarling like a beast, she feared their daughter wouldn’t take it too kindly.  “Rum, let them be.  They aren’t alone on a secluded terrace unchaperoned.  They’re here with us in the safety of our home under our own watchful eyes.  Relax,” she crooned gently.

        Some of the heat leeched out of him beneath her comforting caress, but his narrow-eyed gaze still followed the couple around the room.  Morraine laughed at something Peter said and the mage stiffened.  When had his daughter become the young adult he saw before them?  He groaned, his brow furrowing as he looked down at his wife.  “I don’t want her to grow up.  I’ve only had her for a year and a half.”

        “I know, darling, but she has to.  In the meantime, all we can do is make sure she is able to enjoy what is left of her childhood.”

        Rumpelstiltskin sighed and nodded in grudging acceptance.  He watched the children twirl and bob about the floor as the music swelled into the familiar strains of a waltz.  He brightened considerably as an idea struck him.  He turned to his Belle, held out his hand, and dipped into a courtly bow.  “Would you honor me with a dance, pet?” he asked, his voice husky and low.

        Belle shivered in delight and slipped her hand into the warmth of his, allowing him to draw her into his arms and out onto the dance floor.  “My pleasure, milord.”

        Granny couldn’t help but stare in stunned amazement at the Dark One and his lady as they moved about the floor, their movements so in sync with one another, they appeared to be of one mind.  Normally, it took decades to be so in tune with one’s partner and yet the lady of the Dark Castle seemed to have accomplished it within a few months.  Perhaps she’d been wrong about them, she mused.  Belle was genuinely kind and the mage Granny had detested because he was privy to her secrets … well she was coming to find he wasn’t as repugnant as he’d once appeared to be.

        He’d gone out of his way to provide a safe environment for the children to allow their imagination to run wild without any cause for danger.  She wasn’t too keen on his use of magic, but the delight on Red and Peter’s faces, their abject enjoyment shared with their friends, urged her not to be too hasty in her judgements.  It was clear the sorcerer loved his wife.  It was written plainly on his face for the world to see.  It had been reputed that the Dark One was incapable of such an emotion.  She snorted.  Apparently, the one spreading tales of his vile nature needed to shut their maw.

        Rumpelstiltskin pulled Belle against his chest, closing the distance between them.  It was a breach of etiquette, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care over much.  She didn’t seem to mind either as she rested her cheek against his shoulder and nuzzled against his throat.  A lazy smile spread across his face as his fingers caressed her waist.  She was so warm and soft in his arms, he just wanted to whisk her upstairs and worship her with his lips.  Unfortunately, before he could act on his impulse, the orb of imagination glowed bright blue, signaling the end of Morraine’s hour.

        The orb drifted slowly into his palm as he dropped a kiss to his wife’s brow and turned to the children.  “Alright, you scamps, I believe Peter is next.”

        “Finally!” Baelfire exclaimed.  “Now we can have some real fun!”

        Belle giggled as Morraine stuck her tongue out at him.  “I think I’ll sit this one out,” she said, returning to sit beside Granny on the sofa next to the woman’s chair and pour herself a cup of tea.

        “So what’s it to be, young Peter?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, handing the orb to the lad.

        The boy shuffled from foot to foot, looking uncertain.  “I don’t know if it’s possible.”

        Rumpelstiltskin waved a dismissive hand.  “If you can imagine it, I assure you it’s possible.  Now what adventure will you think of for us?”

        “Well … several months ago a large wolf began terrorizing the village during wolf’s time.  I wanted to volunteer to hunt the wolf, but the hunting parties said I was too young,” he explained, casting a baleful glare in his grandmother’s direction.  It was more her stern objections than those of the men set to hunt the beast.  “Do you think we could hunt and capture the wolf?  Would that be possible?”

        Baelfire let out a whoop of excitement, ready to begin, but Rumpelstiltskin was hesitant as he glanced over at the boy’s grandmother.  “Let me speak with Widow Lucas, lad.  Then we will see, alright?”  At the boy’s nod, he moved away to join the ladies.  Red stopped him, however.

        “Oooh, can I be the wolf?” she asked. 

        Rumpelstiltskin bit the inside of his lip to hold back a nervous giggle.  Granny really wasn’t going to like this.  “A word, madam?” he asked as he came to a stop before her.

        “Is something wrong?” Granny asked, rising to her feet in alarm.

        “Calm yourself,” the mage said reassuringly.  “I simply wish to seek your permission for your grandson’s wish.”

        “I’m sure whatever it is –“

        He cut her off with a shake of his head.  “He wants to hunt and capture the wolf,” he stated firmly, giving her a meaningful look.

        “That sounds like fun, Rum.  What’s the harm?” Belle asked.

        He squeezed her hand as she moved to his side and twined her fingers with his.  “It’s not quite as simple as you think, pet.  Though we are only having sport, this little wish of his may increase his confidence in his hunting skills and give him ideas about joining future hunts against his grandmother’s orders.”

        Granny paled noticeably, but she couldn’t in good conscience deny her boy when the girls had both had great fun with their own endeavors with the orb.  “No, it wouldn’t be fair to him.  Perhaps if he is able to go through the motions of capturing the wolf, he will forget his foolhardy desires to go out with the hunting party next month.”

        “Doubtful,” the sorcerer huffed.  “However there is still that slim chance.  And Red?  It would be a simple illusion.  She wouldn’t really be transformed into the beast.”

        The woman stared hard at her granddaughter who was talking excitedly with her friends.  She hated to disappoint her.  Already their relationship was strained at best.  Belle cast a tentative smile her way.  “Granny, Rumpel wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her.  Surely you must see that by now.”

        Granny lowered her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard by the children, Red especially.  “It wouldn’t trigger certain aspects of her …” she glanced uneasily at Belle, “ … lycanthropy?”

        Rumpelstiltskin shook his head.  “None.  She has no memories of her … condition, so there is nothing to trigger.”

        The woman sighed and resumed her seat, her fingers twisting upon themselves in nervous indecision.  Finally she gave her consent in the form of a nod and the mage returned to the children with a delighted smile.  Belle leaned over and rested her hand atop Granny’s slightly plumper one.  “Is that what Rum helped you with that you’re so afraid he’ll take advantage of?” she asked gently.

        Granny gave her a piercing look, holding it for a long moment as if taking the girl’s measure.  She didn’t trust easily, but their lord’s new wife was so open and approachable.  She’d already gone out of her way to help Widow Myers and many others in town.  It would be so easy to trust her.  “I wasn’t certain if the gene would be passed down to Red from her mother … my daughter Anita.  Just before her fourteenth birthday, when she first began her cycle, she transformed.”

        “Oh, I’m sorry,” Belle murmured sympathetically.

        “Don’t be, dear.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  After all, I lived with it for years.”  She chuckled at the stunned surprise on the girl’s face.  “My father passed it on to me, so I knew there was a chance Anita would pass it to Red.  I could hope though, couldn’t I?”

        Belle fought off a wave of dizziness as the elegant ballroom melded into the forest once more beneath the moonlit sky, her gaze searching out her husband as he cast a quick charm over Red to make her a wolf.  The girl was no more once the thick purple smoke cleared, in her place, the largest wolf she’d ever seen.  Red ran circles around her friends – who were now all dressed in breeches and boots – nipping playfully at their ankles while she waited for Rumpelstiltskin to tell them to begin.

        “She has no clue, does she?” Belle asked softly.  It barely registered on her that their comfortable sofa and chair had morphed into a stout log.

        “No, she doesn’t know.  After her first transformation I came to Rumpelstiltskin and pleaded with him to help her, to protect her from the knowledge until she was a bit older,” the woman admitted bitterly.

        Belle wrapped her arms about herself as a chill wind whipped through the trees.  “What did my husband ask for in return?”

        “A single tuft of hair from her fur during her next wolf’s time.  I don’t know what he wanted it for and I wasn’t about to ask questions.  It was enough that he knew my secrets, and everyone knows you don’t break a deal with the Dark One.”  She pulled her shawl more securely about her shoulders.  “He made a cloak for her.  It stops the transformation during wolf’s time as long as she wears it.”

        “That’s wonderful,” Belle breathed, a fond smile touching her lips as she gazed at her husband.  “Now, Red can enjoy her childhood before faced with the reality of what she is as she matures.”

        “I was only trying to protect her.  Our kind is not well-liked in these parts.”

        Belle nodded and offered her a weak smile, trying to wrap her head around everything she’d been told.  “Peter doesn’t –“

        “No.  He didn’t inherit the gene and has no idea his sister possesses it.  I doubt he’d be so adamant about hunting the wolf if he knew it was Red.”

        “Granny, if there’s ever anything I can do … if she’s ever in trouble, please don’t hesitate to come to us.  She means so much to Bae and Morraine.  We will always help to protect her.”

        The widow turned away and dabbed surreptitiously at her eyes with a handkerchief she fished from her sleeve.  “I think I may have misjudged you, Belle,” she said gruffly.  “I don’t think I’ll be so hasty to decline another invitation should you want to have the children stay over at the castle.”

        Belle’s smile was so bright it could have powered the sun.  “The children will be so excited.  Thank you, Granny.”

        Red bounded over and affectionately licked Belle with a long swipe of her tongue then did the same to her grandmother, tired of them having their own private conversation when they should be paying attention to her fabulousness.  Ever the little diva.

        Rumpelstiltskin clapped his hands and whistled for Red to return to the group for final instructions.  She listened closely and then bounded off for the woods as he handed out special bows and arrows to the others.  These would work just as the jousting lances had.  As soon as an arrow touched Red, it would leave a bright orange mark on her fur and the arrow would vanish in a small puff of smoke.  There was no way she could be harmed.  And that was only if they decided not to trap her instead.

        Belle smiled at her husband as he ventured over and sat down beside her, his arm snaking about her waist as he pulled her against his side.  “Rumpel, truly this is wonderful.  The children are having such a great time.”

        He shrugged off her praise with an embarrassed flush.  “I just wanted them to have a little fun.  It’s better than them trying to sneak out of the castle to play in the snow.  Can’t have them getting sick, now can we?  I do not relish the thought of sickness running rampant in the castle,” he said in an offhand manner that wasn’t fooling anyone.  His companions could see how much he truly cared.

        Belle nestled against his side, reveling in his warmth as the children began to stalk their ‘prey’.  There was an argument between Peter and Morraine about how best to trap the ‘wolf’, but Red saw right through it and snatched the ‘rabbit’ they used as bait.  It was actually just a stuffed rabbit the orb conjured for them made to look like the real thing.  She taunted them, sometimes coming up behind them and letting out a long howl that sent shivers racing up their spines.  Her barking laughter was rather eerie in the dim light of the forest and only added to the fun.  Baelfire succeeded where the others failed, however, climbing a tree and tossing a net over the beast.  No matter how much Red rolled about and snapped and chewed at the mesh, she couldn’t free herself.  Bae felt rather proud of his own cunning and Belle knew he’d crow about his success for days to come.  Rumpelstiltskin was proud of his son as well.  He’d used his head instead of relying on his brawn, and it was a lesson well-learned.

        His mother embraced Baelfire warmly and congratulated him on his success.  “You’re next, Bae.  What will you think up for us?” she asked as she stared at the brightly glowing orb.

        “It’s going to be amazing, mama, and I want you and papa to participate this time. Please? Would you?” he asked, turning his pleading soulful gaze on his parents.

        Rumpelstiltskin burst out into gales of laughter as he watched his son turn up the charm on his mother in an effort to get his way.  “Yes, Belle, would you?” he teased.

        “Oh, stuff,” she scoffed.  But she was just as helpless as her husband when it came to their children.  “I suppose, Bae.”

        “Whoo-hoo!” he exclaimed jubilantly.

        The room began to spin and she shrieked as the magic wove itself about her with spidery tendrils, transporting her to the top of a moldy keep, staring out the window at the rocky terrain below.  “Baelfire!  Bae!  What have you done?!” 

        The boy was too far below to hear her, but she could see the shiny golden armor encasing his small frame.  Peter, Morraine and Red were dressed in silver armor, each of them clutching tightly to a short sword, excitement written plainly on their faces.  They all ducked for cover, Bae leading them to an outcropping of rock as a large golden dragon with glittering amber eyes swooped low over their position and let out a thunderous wail.  Belle stared at it, aghast as it landed on the parapet next to her tower room and stuck its head through the large window, smoke billowing from its nostrils.

        “Rumpel?” she sputtered, noticing the familiar smirk curling the dragon’s mouth.  “Seriously?” She braced her hands on her hips and scowled at her husband turned dragon.  “This is just ridiculous!  I suppose our boy wanted to rescue the damsel in distress from the big bad dragon?”

        A low rumbling purr emitted from his great chest as he nudged her with his large angular head.  She couldn’t hold back her giggle, and reached out to pet his snout, planting a small kiss between his nostrils.  “Go … terrorize the dragon slayers, my husband.  And don’t you dare do anything to give them nightmares!”

        His large amber eye winked at her as he flew away with a loud screech.  Belle leaned out the window and played her part.  “Help! Help! Oh, brave knights, please save me from the horrible monster!”  Thankfully, none of the children could see her roll her eyes or hear the laughter bubbling from her lips.

        Belle watched her husband, seemingly in his element, as he dipped low over them, spouting fire and snarling ominously at them.  A long stream of fire was deflected on Baelfire’s shield, completely confident that he’d come to no harm.  He ran out from beneath his shelter and searched for a vantage point to somehow trap the dragon long enough to save his mother from the tower.  Morraine panicked as she lost her footing and fell amongst the loose rocks, landing on her back.  The gold dragon touched down with a roar at her feet, the ground shaking beneath its weight.  The blonde screamed shrilly and promptly fainted.  Bae and Peter chortled with laughter until Red cuffed them both about their ears.

        The gold dragon nuzzled the fallen girl gently and whined pitifully before he huffed at the children and morphed back into the sorcerer.  Belle held her breath as he scooped up their daughter gently in his arms and carried her over to where Granny sat in a small clearing away from the action.

        The woman hurried to his side as he laid Morraine on a soft patch of grass and gently patted her cheek.  “Is she alright?  I thought you said no harm would come to them.”

        “She’s just fainted,” he assured her, though it didn’t stop him from checking her over for injuries.  “Daughter?  Daughter, waken up now,” he crooned softly, stroking her hair as he held her head in his lap.

        Morraine groaned softly as her eyes fluttered open.

        “Have a nice snooze there, dearie?” her father teased, but was unable to hide the concern so evident on his weathered features.  He held her firmly as she tried to rise.  “Easy now, love.  You just fainted.”

        “Papa! You scared me half to death!  It was just so real and I guess I got carried away,” she offered, cursing herself for a fool.  “Ugh!  Bae’s never going to let me live this down.”

        The children crowded around Morraine, worry etched on their features.  Baelfire took his sister’s hand and squeezed.  “Are you ok, ‘Raine?”

        A deep fiery blush spread out over her face and she looked away.  “I’m sorry I spoiled your fun, Bae.”

        He waved a dismissive hand.  “I don’t care about that.  I just want you to be alright.”

        She beamed up at his caring and heartfelt words, but it was her father she turned to.  “Papa, I think you should continue.  I can sit out on this one, but Bae deserves to have his turn.  I don’t want it to come to an end because I got frightened and fainted.”

        “I don’t know, daughter,” the mage said uncertainly.

        “Come on, papa, please?” Baelfire and Morraine chimed in unison.

        “What’s going on?” Belle asked as she trudged over to her husband’s side to check on their daughter.  “What happened?  Is she alright?”

        “I’m fine, mama.”

        Belle smacked Rumpelstiltskin on the shoulder.  “You just left me in the tower and I didn’t know what was going on!  Were you just going to leave me there indefinitely?”

        “Of course not, pet!”

        Granny snorted, trying to hide her laughter.  The children all climbed to their feet and shuffled away awkwardly.

        “Apparently you were!  I had to rescue myself so I could see if my daughter was harmed!”

        “Belle!” he growled.

        “So are we going to play or what?” their son asked, coming to stand between his bickering parents.

        “Can we, milady?” Red asked, not wanting their afternoon to end just yet.

        “Well … oh, I suppose, but, Rumpel,” she said warningly.  “Please try not to be so ferocious, would you?”

        Rumpelstiltskin clapped his hands and rubbed them together before ushering the children back up the path.  “Alright, places, children.  We’ll pick up where we left off … er … without Morraine.  Can’t have a panicky knight on our hands.”  He turned to Belle and wrapped his arms about her waist, transporting her back to the tower.  When he was certain she was steady on her feet, he cupped her face in his warm palms and gazed worriedly into her eyes.  “Are you angry with me, pet?”

        “No, Rum, of course not.  It’s just rather difficult to think I’m locked in another tower,” she admitted ruefully.

        His face fell into a mask of horror.  “Oh, Belle!  I’m so sorry, love, I forgot in all the excitement.  I never meant …” he stammered, the endearment slipping out unnoticed.

        She leaned up and captured his mouth in a searing kiss, her tongue begging entrance as it swept along the seam of his lips.  When she’d kissed him thoroughly and could feel him hardening against her belly, she released him and nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck.  “I know you didn’t.  Don’t worry, husband, I’m alright.  I know you’d never purposely lock me away.  And this tower has plenty of light and I can see out …”

        “Never,” he murmured against her hair, his arms squeezing her tightly.  “I’d never allow you to come to harm, dearest.  Please forgive me.”

        “There’s nothing to forgive, Rum.  This was Baelfire’s wish and he doesn’t know what my father did to me.”  She turned her face up to his and cast him a loving smile.  “Come now.  We’ve a game to resume.  The children need their dragon so they can rescue the damsel.”

        He still hesitated.  “You’re sure?”

        “Positive.”  She met his lips again as he pressed several sipping kisses to her mouth.  “At least this tower is easy to escape.  Go on, I’ll be fine.”

        “I don’t deserve you, y’know.”

        “You have me anyway and I’ll not let you go for anything,” she vowed earnestly.

        He stole one more kiss before hopping up onto the window ledge and letting his magic transform him once more.  The children whooped happily and easily fell back into the game as the golden dragon swooped over them with a loud roar.  Morraine sat next to Granny and sipped a warm cup of tea the woman had poured for her, enjoying the show immensely judging by the smile on her face.

        Red and Peter kept the dragon busy, taunting it with their swords and dipping into crevasses too big for the beast to follow.  Baelfire ducked and dodged along the path until he was able to steal into the keep and run up the stairs to the tower, crashing through the door with a triumphant grin. 

        “Milady, I am Sir Baelfire.  I’m here to rescue you from the ravaging beast who has taken you prisoner!” he exclaimed proudly.

        Belle pressed her lips together tightly to still her laughter.  “Oh, thank you, sir knight.  You’re my hero!” She hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek, following him as he led her down the stairwell and out into the sunlight.

        The golden dragon roared as the four knights led his prize away.  He flew to the highest parapet and settled onto his haunches, tucking his great head beneath his leathery wing and admitting defeat.  Belle giggled.  Her family had a flair for the dramatic.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        Red and Peter bid farewell to their friends with a groan, not looking forward to the trip back to the village.  “Are you certain you can’t stay for dinner?” Morraine asked as Granny fastened her cloak about her shoulders.

        “I’m afraid not, dear,” the woman said.  “Perhaps next time.”

        “Granny, I so enjoyed your company today.  I hope we’ll be able to do this again very soon,” Belle said, embracing the woman warmly.

        “I hope so too.  This afternoon was full of surprises.”  She gave Rumpelstiltskin a grudging smile as he stood stiffly at the door.  “Not all of them bad.  I greatly appreciate your hospitality.”

        The children followed their grandmother out into the snow covered courtyard and boarded the carriage, waving to Morraine and Baelfire as they approached the gates. 

        Morraine hugged her father and burrowed against his chest, humming happily.  “Papa, this was the best day ever.  Thank you!”

        Rumpelstiltskin dropped a kiss to her crown and returned the embrace.  “You’re most welcome, little daughter.”  He released her and gave her a gentle nudge towards the stairs.  “Why don’t you and your brother go wash up for supper, yes?”

        Belle watched them trek up the stairs, talking excitedly about their afternoon with their friends.  She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her through the hall to the corridor to the kitchens.  “What would you like for supper, husband?  You must be starved.”

        He pulled her into a deserted alcove and wrapped his arms about her, crushing her against his chest as he sought her lips with his own.  He wanted so badly to tell her of his newfound feelings for her, but they wouldn’t pass his lips for fear of her rejection.  Instead he reveled in the way she fit so perfectly in his arms.  “Whatever you like, pet, as long as I can have you for desert.  A reward for my exemplary behavior today.”

        She blushed prettily and smiled up at him coyly.  She nuzzled against the sensitive flesh just below his ear, her smile widening as she felt him shiver.  “You can have me for breakfast as well, milord,” she whispered hotly.

        His lips parted on a gasp of surprise as she slipped out of his arms and disappeared into the kitchen.  He stared at the closed door, warmth radiating in his chest where his heart lay.  Perhaps if he were very lucky, he’d find a way to win her heart.  Stranger things had happened.  He found he wanted that more than anything in the entire realm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know I’m drowning you all in family fluff. Did you like it? It may be a bit ridiculous, but I enjoyed writing this chapter so much. It may even be one of my favorite chapters in this fic to date :D We still have loads to cover before this story is over, so please continue to bear with me. I’m so glad you all enjoyed the Orb of Imagination. In the next chapter Rum wants to play with the orb a bit … alone … with his Belle. Any prompts? Ideas? Anything you really want to see? Lemme know, dearies :D Thank you all for your continued support. *hugs*


	22. The Orb of Imagination

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains smut … but you’re really not surprised, are you?

        The Dark One scowled at his host, his image visible in the large ornate mirror in the master suite’s bathing chamber as the spinner prepared for bed.  The weakling was humming.  _Humming!!_  Some merry wee ditty that grated heavily on his nerves.  What Dark One in the long history of fiends ever hummed!?  “ _What_ are _you doing_?” he snarled in disgust.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s lips crooked up on the left in a half moon grin as he went about ignoring the demon.  He was becoming quite adept at the task.  He squinted around the Dark One’s image and regarded his own reflection, assuring himself his face was clean.  He might see himself as a monster, but he was going to present himself to his wife as a _clean_ monster.  He was rather looking forward to using the orb with his little Belle.  Surely, she would come up with something extremely amusing for them both.

        “ _You’re annoyingly_ _… happy.  I don’t know why you’re going to all this trouble for that girl,”_ the Dark One spat. _“She doesn’t return your feelings, y’know.”_

The spinner picked up the brush he usually used to style Belle’s hair and glanced between it and his own unruly curls.  He raked the bristles through his hair and then choked on a gasp as the curls separated and frizzed out from his head.  “Bloody hellfire and damnation!  I can’t let her see me like this!”

        “Rum, darling, who are you talking to in there?” Belle asked, having finished saying goodnight to the children. 

        The knob began to turn on the chamber door and he slammed it closed with a small burst of magic.  “N-No one, dearest.  I’ll be out in a moment,” he stammered, thankful his wife couldn’t hear the gleeful laughter of the demon in his head.  “Why don’t you pour us a glass of wine and I’ll join you soon.”

        “Alright, husband. Don’t be long.”

        He stared aghast at his hair and prayed the Dark One wouldn’t fight him as he tried to repair the damage.  When the demon was amused, it seemed to be harder to control his magics.  If he refused to co-operate, he was sure he might have a potion in his tower which would tame it.  Ten minutes later, a good bit of split ends from a wayward spark of magic and a potion later, he felt he was at last presentable enough to join his wife.

        _“Why do you even care what she thinks of your appearance? You’re the Dark One. She should just be happy that you don’t flay her alive and leave her bones for the carrion,”_ the demon hissed.  _“She’s merely pitying you, Spinner.”_

        Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t ignore him this time, his shoulders drooping dejectedly as he looked over at the mirror where the demon grinned with a menacing display of sharp teeth.  “Belle doesn’t pity me. She cares about –“

        _“Pfft!  That girl cares about the deal_ _… nothing more.  But do continue to delude yourself if it makes you happy.”_

He closed his eyes against the pain tearing his heart into tiny pieces.  The demon was right … Belle would never love him.  She was all that was good and right with the world and he was host to the darkest of evils.  She might enjoy her time with him and the material things he could give her … she most definitely appreciated the lengths he’d gone to in order to secure her kingdom’s safety … but, no, she would never love him.  He needed to accept it and guard his heart against the pain, just be happy with the part of her she would allow him to have.  He pushed the demon into the farthest recesses of his mind, the cage securely locked as he left the bathing chamber to join his wife.

        His lips once more curved up into a half moon grin as she hurried to his side, a glass of wine in each hand and a kiss ready for his cheek.  How could he bear to be sad when she was oh so lovely and accommodating?  “How were the children when you said good night to them?” he asked, sipping gingerly at his wine, appreciating the rich robust flavor of the red.

        Belle chuckled.  “They barely made it through one story before they were asleep.  I suppose it will be alright for them to sleep in the same bed?”

        “Of course.  Bae will crawl into Morraine’s bed when he has nightmares, if he’s cold, if he can’t sleep … he doesn’t really need an excuse.  And they’re still young enough where it isn’t unseemly.”

        “They were disappointed you didn’t stay longer, but I explained you wanted to clean up after having to wear dragon,” she teased.  “They were rather impressed with you today, darling.”

        Rumpelstiltskin set his goblet on the table by the hearth and wrapped his arms about his wife, burying his face against the crook of her neck where it met her shoulder.  “Were they?  I’m just happy they had fun with their little friends.”

        Belle hummed happily and caressed his nape with a gentle hand.  “You’re a wonderful father, Rumpelstiltskin.  Not many would go to such lengths to entertain their children,” she said, her thoughts turning to her own less than attentive father.  “They’re so lucky to have you.”

        “Sometimes I wonder.”

        She pressed a kiss to his cheek and nuzzled her nose against his ear in a way she knew he liked.  “What’s troubling you, Rum?  Let me help you.”

        He shook his head, refusing to lift it from the comfort of her shoulder.  “It’s nothing you need concern yourself, dear one.  My thoughts are just sometimes heavy.”

        “I hope someday you’ll come to realize I _want_ to help you, Rumpel.  I want you to feel comfortable sharing your burdens with me.” 

        He drew away to meet her gaze, a small smile gracing his lips as he clasped her hands warmly in his own.  Oh how he wanted to believe she actually _wanted_ to be there with him without the deal which had brought them together and held her bound to him.  Kissing the knuckle above her betrothal ring, he sighed.  “Enough melancholy for one evening, hm?  What say you and I have a little fun of our own with the orb?”

        Belle nodded, willing to do anything to make him happy and ease his worries.  She didn’t like to see him so sad when he brought her so much joy.  She wasn’t, however, expecting him to drop the little sphere into her hands.  “You want _me_ to use it?” she asked in surprise.

        “Anything you desire, dearest,” he said with a jaunty wave of his elegant hand as he studied her expression.

        “But, Rum, I have everything I could possibly desire already.”

        His heart fluttered at the warmth shining so brightly in her cerulean eyes as she looked directly at him while she said it.  That elusive emotion … hope, beat its wings at his breastbone briefly before he could tamp it down again.  “Surely there’s something you desire.  No one can truly resist the lure of the orb.”

        She held it out to him, urging him to take it from her.  “No … it would be better for you to do it.”

        He closed her hands around the orb and then wrapped his own over hers.  “I wish for you to dream for us, my Belle,” he insisted, his voice warm and inviting, a tone he reserved exclusively for her.

        Belle’s face crumpled, indecision causing a rosy flush to settle in the apples of her cheeks.  “What if I do it wrong?  What if it’s not grand enough to suit you, or –“

        Rumpelstiltskin leaned in and covered her lips with his, cutting off her fears with a tender kiss.  He smiled as she sighed, following slightly as he pulled away.  “You’ll do fine, love.  I’m sure whatever you imagine for us will be wonderful because we’ll be together, eh?”

        Once again, he was giving her a choice.  She’d been given so few in her short life, she still had a problem with accepting it.  He was so wonderful to her, she didn’t want to disappoint him.  “Something grand, but simple.  I think I might be able to manage that … or not.  Oh, bugger!”

        “Belle!” he chortled, unable to hide his amusement.

        “Sorry!”  Her blush deepened as her lips disappeared between her pearly teeth. 

        “Relax, my Belle,” he whispered against her lips, coaxing her to let the tension release from her body.  “This is going to be fun for us now, dear heart.  Just let go and take us off on an adventure.” Another kiss and he wrapped his arms about her, his fingers teasing along her spine.  “That’s it, let go,” he breathed, the room beginning to whirl and spin as her imagination took flight.

        Rumpelstiltskin once again marveled at the magic contained within the orb.  It was hard to believe they were still within the confines of the castle when the sun shone down on them so brightly, its rays glistening on the murky waters of the wide river.  Belle overbalanced and clutched tightly to his vest to right herself as the deck of the large traveling barge beneath their feet moved idly through the current.  Large oars protruding from the sides of the lower decks propelled them onward, magic rather than slaves their only fuel.  Belle squealed with delight as her bare feet carried her to the railing so she could get a better look at the shore.

        The sorcerer arched a brow as he glanced down at himself, snorting as he took in the curly toed slippers adorning his feet.  Agrabah’s famed Thebes River region, no doubt.  Belle had been reading about it just last week during a history lesson with the children.  His gaze traveled upward over himself, his legs encased in loose fitting red silk trousers, a wide gold sash about his waist and a crimson vest trimmed in intricate gold embroidery finished his look.  Thank the gods she’d foregone the turban, he thought with a giggle.  The only jewelry aside from his wedding ring were two serpent armbands about his upper arms with glittering rubies for eyes.  His little wife had a keen imagination it seemed.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes swept over her appreciatively, raking her from top to toe.  The gauzy golden skirt riding low on her hips was inlaid with rubies, the short vest over her bosom held together with a jeweled clasp with the same stone.  His hands itched to explore the tantalizing flesh of her belly and lower back, to reacquaint himself with her softness.  Her eyes were alight with wonder as she gripped the rail tightly and took in the wonders of nature before her.

        Her smile was so wide, he wondered if the strain of it made her face ache.  “Oh, Rum, it’s even more spectacular than in the book,” she exclaimed as his arms wrapped around her and he pressed his front flush with her back.

        Her husband nuzzled softly at her ear, humming happily at the pleasure she received through her wish.  “I’m really going to have to bring you and Morraine to Agrabah, aren’t I?  The two of you share an uncanny delight in its history.”

        Belle shrugged.  “I don’t care where we go or what we do … as long as we’re all together, Rumpel.  You and the children have enriched my life so much.”  She turned her face up to his, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.  “Thank you,” she whispered with heartfelt sincerity.

        He nibbled softly just beneath her ear, his lips curling into a smile against her warm skin.  “I should be the one thanking you, dear heart.  I didn’t realize what I was missing from my life.  I thought I just wanted a mother for my children … I had no idea I _wanted_ a wife.”

        “Sometimes we don’t know what we want, Rumpel, until it’s standing before us,” she whispered breathily as his fingers traced intricate patterns over her bare stomach, the muscles clenching as heat ignited in her blood and made her heart race.

        “And … you want me, little wife?” he purred, the warm glow of his love for her radiating from his every pore.

        “Oh yes,” she sighed, leaning heavily back into his chest, seeking more of his touch.  “No one has ever made me feel as you do … cherished, as if I matter.  I don’t just want you, Rum; I-I … _need_ you.”

        _I love you, Belle.  Gods, how I love you._   His jaw ached with the effort to keep the words firmly lodged on his tongue, the need to say them nearly overwhelming.  “Tell me what you need, love. Anything you want, my darling, and it’s yours.”

        She wriggled restlessly beneath his wandering hands, her senses ablaze, so filled with his presence she felt a part of him.  Her hand lifted to pet his curls, her fingers delving into the soft locks at his nape which caused him to shiver.  “Touch me, love me … that’s all, my husband.  Show me how much you care for me.”

        Rumpelstiltskin bit back a whimper, the sound resembling more of a growl as he enveloped her in his arms.  His hands roamed her body, using touch to convey what he couldn’t yet put into words.  Impatient fingers found the velvety softness of her skin, her little mewls of pleasure urging him to continue.

        There was an urgency to her movements as she reached up and freed the jeweled clasp of her vest, her fingers circling his wrists to bring his hands to her breasts.  She arched into his touch as he squeezed gently, cried out softly as his thumbs rolled over the turgid tips.  She felt wanton as she pressed her thighs together, already feeling the warm wetness gathering there in her core.  She wanted him, needed him, with a passion which threatened to consume her, the need to be filled by her husband overwhelming. 

        Belle reached behind her, touching him wherever she might be able to reach, excitement at being held in such a vulnerable position before him with no control coursing through her.  And all the while she writhed in his arms, a willing slave to his questing hands.  “Yes … Yes, Rum, please … please touch me … don’t stop!”

        Rumpelstiltskin nipped sharply at the crook of her neck, his senses filled with his little wife, her scent as he breathed her in, the ambrosia of her skin a taste which could sate his hunger as no other, and the feel of her skin so soft it rivaled the finest velvet.  His perfect mate, his dearest love … all his for the taking.  The fire in his blood surged into his engorged cock, making it pulse where it rested against the cleft of her arse.  His fingers pulled frantically at the silk ribbons of her skirt, clumsy in his efforts to divest her of the offending garment.  It was in the way, hindering his quest for his prize.

        His left hand curled about her throat, tilting her face up to meet his lips as they slanted over hers in a bruising kiss.  She matched his urgency with her own, her fingers tangling roughly in his hair, holding him to her, taking as well as giving.  Her sorcerer ripped the skirt away with a growl, his claws ripping into the fabric in his mindless need to touch her heated flesh. 

        Belle keened long and loud, her cries carrying across the water to startle the lone Ibis foraging for food on the bank of the river, as he cupped her mound.  She canted her hips forward into his palm, gasping as his fingers delved through her sodden folds.  His sharp teeth nipped her lip as his satisfaction rumbled deep in his chest at finding her so wet, so ready for him.  Those long spinner’s fingers slowly circled her tight ring of muscle, his thumb teasing lightly against her clit and she mewled, wondering where he’d ever learned his unshakable patience to be so careful with her.

        “Please, please, please, Belle!  Now?  I need you now, love,” he panted, his pleas sending a new flash of pure fire spiraling down her spine.  She could feel the pressure in her lower belly, the throbbing in her core building to an unbearable level.

        “Yes, Rum … please!” she cried, thrusting her hips back to grind against his cock.  She reached behind her, grasping futilely at his silk covered hips, trying to help him lower it down to his thighs to free himself.  Rumpelstiltskin howled as her fingers curled around his length.  He thrust into her grip, his hands releasing her and bracing against the railing, his sharp nails digging deeply into the wood, splintering it as he fought to maintain his control.  He panted weakly against her nape as he blanketed her with his body, enveloping her with his warmth.  “R-Rumpel …”

        Rumpelstiltskin steadied himself, his hands smoothing over the curve of her arse as she pumped him gently.  He took her hand from him and urged her to brace against the railing as he slid his fingers once more through her slick folds and positioned himself at her entrance.  The burning rays of the sunset slipping behind the stone pyramids caressed her skin with its glow, the only witness to their passion as he sank into her.

        Belle tossed her head back with a gasp as he filled her, pleasure spreading out to every nerve ending from where they were joined together in bliss.  He closed his eyes as he smoothed his hands over her back, pulling the vest from her shoulders and tossing it aside.  She arched into his touch as he trailed a line of hot open mouthed kisses over her spine, his arm wrapping tightly about her waist to anchor her.

        She canted her hips back and he was forced to bite down sharply on his lip to fight his instincts, giving her the time she needed to adjust.  “Stop teasing, Rum!” she cried, needing him to move before she lost what sanity she had left.

        His lips curled into a devilish grin as he nipped at her shoulder, thrusting shallowly.  He’d never taken her this way before and he wouldn’t be responsible for causing her pain.  “Are you alright, pet?” he asked, tracing the whorls of her ear with his wet tongue.  She shivered, a tiny whimper escaping her throat.  “Did I hurt you?”

        “I’d be better if you would move!” she snapped, wriggling her hips.

        Rumpelstiltskin left a smattering of butterfly kisses over the smooth curve of her jaw as he mapped a path to her lips.  She gasped against his mouth as he began to thrust and he swallowed down her moans.  He set a slow pace, wanting to prolong her pleasure, but it only seemed to add to her frustration.  Cries of _deeper, faster, harder_ , echoing over the water as the sun dipped lower towards the horizon.  He could feel himself growing harder as her tight silken sheath clenched at him with each forward motion, the strain of holding back his own climax causing the muscles in his neck to stand out in stark relief.

        His Belle was close, but nowhere near as close as he was.  “Touch yourself, pet,” he purred against her ear, reaching down to clasp her hand in his and bring it to the juncture of her thighs.  “Touch yourself like I showed you.  Remember, my love?”

        Belle nodded jerkily, the breath freezing in her lungs as he brought their twined fingers to brush against her swollen bundle of nerves, a jolt of pleasure shocking through her system and causing her to cry out.  “Rum …”

        Her husband released her, confident she knew what to do, freeing his own hands to roam freely over her belly and thighs and up to her breasts to toy with her taut nipples which begged for his attention.  His thrusts became more erratic, harder, deeper, his control slipping as her cries came more frequently, his name on her lips intoxicating.  And then she was coming, her climax bursting in a shower of sparks on his senses, the evidence of her desire bathing his cock in a warm flood, her inner walls clasping him tightly and dragging his own orgasm from him with each blissful pull.

        Rumpelstiltskin did his best to remain upright, refusing to crush her with his weight as the sheer immeasurable pleasure washed over him and threatened to drag him under. She clung to his arms as they wrapped around her, grounding herself to him as she fought to learn to breathe again.  He didn’t know how long they stood there at the railing until he softened enough to slip out of her, bemoaning the loss of connection between them.

        Belle smiled up at him as he swung her up into his arms and carried her to the pavilion draped in crimson silk in the center of the barge.  He laid her down upon the scattered pillows and collapsed wearily beside her, resting his head between her breasts.  She carded her fingers through his damp hair and sighed in contentment.

        “We won’t be able to do this when I take you and the children to Agrabah … too many people about.  Don’t want to scandalize the locals,” he teased, cupping her breast in his hand and kissing her fevered flesh. 

        Belle giggled and curled her leg over his hip, rubbing his thigh soothingly with her foot.  “I should say not.”  She would have been content to lie there and sleep, curled around her husband until the orb brought them back to reality had her curiosity not gotten the better of her.  “Rumpel?”

        “Hm,” he grunted, his eyes closed, his body relaxed as he twirled one of her curls about his finger.

        “Did you … um … did you used to do these things with your first wife?” she stammered, heat suffusing her face.  The only way she was sure he’d heard was the slight tensing in his shoulders.

        He sighed and rolled over onto his back, dragging her with him to lie across his chest.  “Of all the pleasant topics you could have chosen and this is what you decide to ask about?”

        She shrugged.  “Is it wrong of me to be curious about my husband?”

        The mage dropped a kiss to the crown of his wife’s head to reassure her.  “Of course not, pet.  I want you to feel as if you can ask me anything.  I may not always be able to answer, but I don’t want you to feel as if you can’t talk to me if something is troubling you.”

        Belle was quiet for a long moment and when she opened her eyes, they were back in their own bed, nestled against the soft sheets, the orb having run out of time for their fantasy.  “Did you, though?  Do these types of things with Milah?”

        “No.  No I didn’t, love,” he sighed.  “Sex was never good with us.  It’s a wonder Bae was even conceived.”

        She propped her chin on his shoulder so she could look up into his hooded amber eyes.  “Was there –“

        Rumpelstiltskin shook his head as he snorted.  “No, there was no one after Milah until I found you, pet.  Just as there was no one at all before her.  What I’ve learned – what I’ve shared with you – I’ve mostly read about in books.  Before I became the Dark One, I couldn’t read.  My knowledge came from those before and I used it to further my limited education.  I wanted to help Bae and then later Morraine.  They’re so smart, Belle.”

        She burrowed down against his chest with a yawn, a sleepy smile on her lips.  “I’m glad.  That way we can share these experiences together.”

        He pursed his lips and blew gently from where he lay next to her, extinguishing the lamps about the room with his magic, closing his eyes as he nestled against her hair with his nose.  “Aye, love, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share them with than you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it’s been so long since I updated. RL and all the other stories that have plagued my brain as of late have totally swamped me. Next Rum and his family are off to Cora and Henry’s wedding. That should prove interesting :D Good news, this story won EmilieBrownFanfic’s Cover Bunny contest in the Best WIP Fic category!!! Thank you to all who voted for it!! You guys rock. 
> 
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> Happy 21st Birthday to my darling friend, FaerieTales4ever!! Love you, daughter!!! I so hope you enjoyed the update. I promise to try to have more for you soon. (Sorry it was late!)


	23. A Wedding and Almost a Funeral

 

          “Mama, is my bow straight?” Morraine asked, nearly turning in a circle as she tried to get a better look at the back of her dress.  “I can’t tell no matter which way I look.”

          Balefire groaned and rolled his eyes.  “Isn’t it time to go yet?  Where’s papa?  All you girls do is primp and preen in front of the mirror, and I’m ready for cake.”

          Belle cast a worried glance at the clock on the mantel.  “I don’t know what could be keeping him.  Have either of you seen him since breakfast?”

          “He went out on a deal,” Morraine murmured glumly.  “Something about a sick child.”

          “I’m sure it’s nothing to fret over, darling,” Belle tried to sound reassuring for her daughter.  “You know he’s not going to ignore a deal that may help a child.”  Then why was her own stomach tied in knots?

          The past week had seen a lot of strange occurrences in the Dark Castle all centered around the comings and goings of her husband.  Something was off, but she hadn’t been able to put her finger on just what it was.  The oddest of all had been when she’d found him unconscious in his study and he’d had no idea how he’d come to be there or how long his lapse had been.  Rumpelstiltskin had blown it off as if it were nothing, but Belle was a worrier by nature and considering the magics running rampant in his wiry frame, it wasn’t good for a loss of control on his part.  What if something happened and one of the children were caught in the crossfire?  Now he was late.  He’d been looking forward to this wedding for over a month, part of a deal he wanted to see to completion.  Why wasn’t he here?

          “Sit down and have a crumpet, Bae.  I’m sure by the time we finish our tea your father will show himself … no doubt in high dudgeon that we’re not ready to go.”

         

X*X*X*X*X

 

          Rumpelstiltskin stood before the mirror in the bathing chamber separating the master suites and stared down at his bloodied hands in horror.  It had been over a year since he’d lost control like this, and the Dark One was eerily silent.  He could feel the panic seizing his chest, his thin frame shaking with tremors.  What had he done?  A burst of magic filled the sink with fresh cool water and he didn’t hesitate to plunge his hands in up to the elbow, scrubbing vigorously at the viscous crimson carnage coating his skin and shirtsleeves.  The water transformed to a raucous color and he switched it out again and again until there was no trace left on his flesh.

          He banished the evidence of his heinous deed and shed his clothes.  A wisp of flame curled around the garments, leaving nothing but a small pile of ash.  He disposed of that too before climbing into the sunken tub and filling it with hot water.  He scrubbed himself until his skin felt raw and still he didn’t feel clean.  What had he done?  He clearly remembered the call, the pull of his magic, the little widow woman and her sick grandchild, but everything after meeting her was a blank.  This couldn’t be happening again!  _He_ controlled the demon; the demon did _not_ control _him_.

          _This is all your fault!_

 _Maybe the girl slipped something into your morning tea_ , the Dark One whispered cheekily.

          Rumpelstiltskin slammed a fist down into the cooling water and gnashed his teeth.  _You know I’m not susceptible to poisons.  And Belle would never seek to be rid of me with such underhanded tactics.  She had blade in her hand and she forced me to take it back.  She wants_ ME _, not my power!_

 _Tsk tsk!_ the demon clucked sympathetically. _Ah yes_ _…_ _dear sweet little Belle_ _…_ _she believes you have a true heart, a misguided soul.  She thinks you can love.  Wonder what she would have thought to see you dripping with gore.  What_ did _you do, Spinner?_

_I DID NOTHING!!_

_Didn’t you?  Technically_ _–_

He let out a strangled gasp as the door opened and his wife hurried to his side.  “Rum!  Where have you been, darling?” she asked, reaching out a hand to tilt his chin up to her.  She frowned as she took in the fear clouding his amber eyes.  “What is it?  Are you alright?”

          The spinner forced the demon back into its cage and offered her a tentative smile.  “Fine, dearest.  Just running a bit behind schedule.  Are the children ready?”

          “Of course.  Rumpel, are you certain you’re alright?”

          He curled his hand around hers and brought it to his lips.  “Nothing for you to worry about, Belle.  I’ll hurry and meet you downstairs.”

          Belle felt her chest tighten with worry, that same elusive something urging her to pay attention.  It lurked just out of reach, ready to steal away her happiness.  If she weren’t careful, everything she’d gained … her husband, her children, her joy … they’d all be taken from her.  She had to find out what was going on before it was too late.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          Belle’s worries only continued to grow.  Rumpelstiltskin smiled and engaged his children on the long carriage ride to King Xavier’s land for the wedding, but she knew him well enough by now to know there was something troubling him.  Something more worrisome than a deal gone bad, she mused.  The few times he’d met her eyes, he’d looked away quickly.  She feared he’d done something he was ashamed of, but she couldn’t be certain.  She wasn’t used to seeing him like this, and it ate away at her.  By the time they’d reached the long drive leading up to Xavier’s castle, her stomach was a writhing mass of anxiety.  It didn’t help when they disembarked and Rumpelstiltskin’s hand shook beneath hers.

          He couldn’t get rid of them fast enough, escorting them to the chapel where the wedding was to be held and handing them into a seat, claiming he wanted to speak with the bride before the wedding.  It was why they’d come, after all.  Belle ignored the nasty looks from the other guests.  She wasn’t at all concerned with their censure.  They didn’t know her _or_ her husband.

          Morraine slipped her hand into her mother’s and tilted her chin up obstinately.  “Don’t pay them any mind, Mama.  They’re all a bunch of hypocrites anyway.”

          Baelfire glared from Belle’s other side, but he quickly lost interest.  “Mama?”

          “Yes, darling?” she whispered back. 

          “Did you notice anything strange about Papa in the carriage?”

          The Dark One’s wife didn’t miss his surreptitious glances in his sister’s direction.  Suspicions confirmed.  There was indeed something amiss with her husband, and the children knew it.  “Alright, you two.  As soon as the ceremony is over, the three of us are going to find a nice quiet table in the ballroom and have a chat.”

          “Are we in trouble?” Morraine asked, a little alarmed by her mother’s tone.

          “No … but your father is.”

X*X*X*X*X

 

          “Hello, dearie,” the Dark One tittered from his perch on the windowsill. 

          Cora whirled around, dark eyes wide as she located the sound of his voice.  “Dark One!” she beamed, her ruby lips blooming into the brightest of smiles.  “I’m so happy you were able to come to my wedding.”  She dropped into a curtsy, the ivory lace edging her gown trailing the floor.

          The Dark One tried to keep the pained grimace from his face as he studied her.  Where was that lovely darkness, that hint of evil and the black revenge which had burned in her heart when Rumpelstiltskin had answered her pleas for help?  Who was this woman?  There was a light about her now.  Eck!  Love!  This definitely wasn’t the woman he’d wanted that night months ago.  “I take it you’re pleased with your match with Prince Henry?”

          She blushed.  _Flaming fairies, she actually blushed like a maiden._   He felt his gore rise.

          “When I made this deal with you, I had my doubts,” she said, turning back to the mirror to clip her earrings to her lobes.  “But he’s so charming and witty.  He really listens when I speak.  He’s interested in my opinions and ideas.  His passionate nature doesn’t hurt a bit either,” she admitted with a wicked laugh.

          “Of course, he does, dearie.  You’re a bloody princess.  Thanks ever so much to me,” he giggled.

          “Don’t be petty, Rumpelstiltskin.  I’m trying to thank you.”

          “Y’know I couldn’t help but notice Leopold is in attendance with his oh so darling fiancé.”  He watched her closely for any signs of her old rage at the mention of her former paramour, disappointed when he could find none.  The girl really had come a long way in the short time since he’d saved her.  It was a fight to keep the sneer from his face.

          “I’m no longer concerned with Leopold or his affairs.  Henry and my daughter are all that matter to me now.”

          His eyes narrowed slightly as a tiny cry emitted from the bassinet next to Cora’s dressing table.  _Ah, the child the spinner had been so concerned with_ , he thought fleetingly.  Clear blue eyes, much like Belle’s stared back at him, rosy cheeks, and lovely ginger hair.  The child would be quite pretty as she grew into a woman.  And every bit of potential for dark magic had been completely wiped away thanks to one of his own potions. Gah!  This was nothing more than a waste of time.

          _A pity, too.,_ he lamented as his gaze swept over the low-cut bodice of Cora’s wedding gown. _I bet she’d have been a wildcat between the sheets._

The spinner rattled the bars of the cage.  _She’s not meant for you, demon.  She’s not the same woman she was when we met her._

          _Thanks to you,_ he spat.

_You_ _–_

_Shut it, spinner.  It’s my turn now.  Isn’t very fun in there, is it?  The more of yourself you gave to your precious little pet, the more control I was able to wrest from you.  I really must remember to thank her later._

The spinner’s lips drew back from his clenched teeth.  _You stay away from her!  Don’t you touch my Belle._

_Or what?  There’s nothing you can do, spinner.  So sit back and enjoy the ride._

“Lovely child, dear Cora,” he said, leaning over for one last look at the child.  He raised her hand to press a kiss to her pale knuckles.  “I wish your little family all the happiness you deserve.”

          “I will never be able to thank you enough.”

          He barely refrained from rolling his eyes.  “Think nothing of it, dearie.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          If there was a way to physically beat his host bloody, the Dark One wouldn’t have hesitated.  If someone had told him he’d be sitting in a pew listening to a cleric drone on about true love, he’d have laughed himself silly.  It didn’t help that Rumpelstiltskin’s precious pet sat there, fingers entwined with his own as she cast him suspicious glances throughout.  The spinner’s family was going to prove troublesome for what he had in mind.

          As the wedding finally concluded and the guests spilled over into the ballroom, he was able to breathe a sigh of relief.  How did the spinner deal with the two magpies, he thought, looking down at the children?  The girl, thankfully seemed distracted with lady so and so’s gown, but the boy watched him through narrow guarded eyes.  He felt exposed.  Even moreso when his wife tilted her lovely head to the side and studied him.

          “Are you alright, darling?” she murmured softly in that melodic tone of hers which sent a chill of anticipation down his spine.  Ahhh, a perk to sharing his host’s body.  He would have the lady of the Dark Castle all to himself that evening.

          The Dark One’s lips twitched into a smirk.  “Of course, pet.  Why do you ask?”

          Belle’s lashes fluttered coyly up at him as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.  “You seem a bit off today.  I suppose it must be the stress of the wedding.  So many people, some of which I’m sure are eager to speak with you?”

          He waggled his brows at her.  “There are always desperate souls who seek my attention, precious.”  She hummed in agreement, but her attention was snared by the major domo’s bold announcement of the next guest.  The demon’s interest perked as he turned to see the King of Avonlea descending the stairs, that lummox ex-finance of Belle’s at his side.  _And so it begins_ , he chuckled gleefully.  Already he could feel the spinner doubling his efforts to free himself and take control once more.  _Not today, dearie._

          Belle winced, feeling her husband tense beneath her gloved hand as her father approached.  She groaned inwardly.  Her husband and father in the same room was a recipe for disaster.  Poor Cora, she thought.  She sent a prayer heavenward that both would behave themselves for once.  “Father,” she greeted stiffly.

          “Belle …” the king breathed, tears sparkling in his azure eyes.  “I was so hoping you would be here today.”

          Her brows shot somewhere near her hairline.  “You were?”

          Gaston hovered near Maurice’s elbow, glaring at the Dark One.  “Hello, Belle.  It’s good to see he hasn’t killed you yet,” he sneered.

          “Apparently, your time as a rose taught you nothing,” her husband growled lowly.  The demon would have been all too happy to cause a scene, but it would not suit his plans in the least.

          The king shook his head at the knight.  “Perhaps you would be so good as to pay your respects and offer your congratulations to the bride and groom, Gaston,” he said, his voice brooking no objection, leaving him no choice but to obey.

          “Mama, who was that odious man?” Morraine asked, leaning over to whisper near her mother’s ear after Gaston had slinked away.

          “That, little one, was Belle’s former betrothed,” the Dark One supplied.

          Maurice smiled at the girl despite himself.  “And who is this charming young lady?”

          Belle gaped at her father.  “Alright, who are you and what have you done with my papa?”

          “Belle, my darling girl, I didn’t come here to cause trouble for you,” the king said with a wry smile.  “I was hoping you’d be here today so we could talk.  I’ve wanted to for quite a while now, but I didn’t think I would be welcome in your new home.”

          She knew him well enough to know when he was being sincere.  “Papa, may I present our children, Morraine and Baelfire.  Children, this is my father, Maurice Beaumont, High King of Avonlea.”  Morraine curtsied as Bae executed a decent bow.

          “We’re very pleased to meet you, your majesty,” the girl said sweetly.

          Baelfire on the other hand seemed to have left his polite manners at home.  “We don’t have to call him grandpa, do we, Mama?”

          Rumpelstiltskin giggled.  “Children, why don’t you see if they’re serving some taffy over there,” he said, pointing to a long table filled with tasty treats.

          Maurice hid a grin behind his hand as they skipped off to find something to tempt them.  “Might I have a short word with my daughter?” he asked of the mage.

          Belle turned her eyes up to meet her husband’s.  “Do you mind terribly?”

          The Dark One wanted to chortle with glee.  Things couldn’t be going more perfectly if he’d orchestrated it himself.  “Are you sure, pet?”  He emitted a long-suffering sigh as if leaving her in her father’s care were the greatest tragedy to befall them in a century.  “Very well.  Just call should you need me.  I won’t be far.”  He wondered briefly if he were laying it on too thick.  The spinner was about to have a seizure.  Just because he was a bastard and wanted to rile his host even more, he pressed a kiss to Belle’s cheek before he took his leave.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          It felt odd standing there with her father, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm as they watched couples stream onto the parquet dance floor.  It had been just under two months since she’d seen him, but to her it felt more like years.  And she had to draw on an inner strength she didn’t know she possessed to keep her tears at bay.  Gods, how she’d missed him.  Though their relationship wasn’t the best, he was still her papa.

          “You look lovely, Belle,” he praised, looking down on her wrapped up in her finery.  “Are you happy?”

          The warm glow in her eyes matched the smile on her lips to perfection.  “I really am, Papa.  Rumpelstiltskin and the children make me unbelievably happy.  I didn’t expect it when he answered my call and I agreed to his terms of the deal.  And I’ve never been so glad to be wrong.”

          Maurice grimaced as he turned them away from the dancers to take a leisurely stroll about the room.  “Are you sure?  He’s … well, he’s the bloody Dark One, daughter!”

          “Papa, stop being so judgmental.  You cannot tell what’s in a person’s heart until you truly know them.  I’ve had a wonderful time getting to know my husband and his children.”

          The king stopped and plucked a glass of champagne off of a passing tray, handing one to his daughter.  “They seem delightful,” he growled into his glass.  “But you’re barely older than they are, Belle.”

          She grinned.  “They simply need a mother’s touch.  They’re brilliant and well-behaved, and two of the most loving souls I’ve ever encountered.  I love them as though they were my own, and though I have no experience with raising children, I will do my best.  Papa, we’re a family … something I’ve always wanted.”

          Maurice eased himself down onto a padded bench in a cozy little niche beneath one of the high windows.  “I miss you.”

          Her eyes softened.  “I miss you too, Papa.”

          “I just wanted for you to make a good match and find happiness,” he murmured brusquely, his voice heavy with emotion.  “I had such high hopes for you and Gaston, but … If the Dark One is your choice, I suppose I’ll have to learn to live with it.”

          Belle’s lips parted on a silent gasp.  “Really?  Um … what brought about this sudden change of heart?”

          The king drained his glass and stared down into the delicate crystal with a forlorn expression on his ruddy features.  “Your husband paid me a visit … one I’m not likely to ever forget.”

          “He told me,” she admitted sheepishly.  “I hope he wasn’t too hard on you.”

          Maurice shook his head, a shudder passing through him as he remembered his fear.  “Rumpelstiltskin gave me a lot to think about.  I did you a great disservice after your mother died, Belle.  My grief is no excuse for what I did to you.  Why did you never tell me how badly the tower frightened you?  It was how my own father taught me lessons I needed to learn.  I’m so sorry, daughter.”

          Belle’s lip trembled as he gathered her into the circle of his arms.  “I still love you, Papa.  I know you only did what you thought was right.  You loved me too … in your own way.  You protected me, sheltered me, taught me …”

          “But I didn’t listen … at least not often enough.  You really are a hero, my darling.  You saved us all.”  He brushed a stray tear from her cheek, not wanting her husband to think Maurice had caused her distress.  “I’m hoping we can get past it.  I’d like for you to come visit when you are able.” He huffed a short chuckle.  “Bring your family with you, and I’ll show you I can be the man you’ve always thought I could be.”

          Belle squeezed his hand.  “Oh, Papa … you already have.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          “Would you stop stuffing your face for five seconds?!” Morraine hissed at her brother, a fake smile plastered to her face as she waved at her mother across the ballroom.

          “I’m ‘ungry, ‘Raine,” Baelfire protested.  “’Sides … Papa’s right over there.”

          “Where?”

          “Over … uh-oh.”

          “Bae, you had one job! Ugh!” she groaned.

          The boy rolled his eyes and shoveled the last bit of cake into his mouth.  “I still can’t believe you’re finally listening to me.  What happened to change your mind?”

          Morraine grimaced, brushing crumbs from her brother’s jacket.  “He called me ‘little one’,” she choked out, her voice raspy with unshed tears.

          Baelfire gasped.  “Papa never calls you that because it’s what your other parents used to –“

          “I know.  It’s how I knew something was wrong.  You were right … the demon’s driving the cart, Bae.”  She hadn’t wanted to believe him.  Their lives were near perfect since Belle had become part of their family.  She and Bae finally had a mother and hoped she would be able to break their father’s curse.  How could the demon have gained control again?

          “We need to tell Mama,” he whispered conspiratorially as a servant passed with a tray of sweet meats.  He eyed them longingly until his sister smacked him sharply on his arm.  “Ow!”

          “Bae, stop thinking with your stomach and pay attention.  I think Mama already knows, but is still in the denial phase.  She doesn’t want to believe Papa can sometimes lose himself in the darkness.”

          “It’s not his fault!”

          “I didn’t say it was, but we’re going to have to do something,” she hissed, pulling him towards a potted fern so they could hide behind it.  All they needed was for someone to overhear them.  “We can’t let the demon hurt our mother.  Papa would never forgive himself, and he’d go on a downward spiral into despair.  You remember what happened the last time he lost control?”

          The boy shuddered.  “I remember.”

          She breathed a sigh of relief that he was willing to take her seriously.  “Ok … try to track him down.  He’s green, Bae,” she snarked dryly, “so it shouldn’t be that hard to find him … and I’ll go talk to Mama.”

          Baelfire shot her a dirty look.  “Thanks, Morraine.  I’d forgotten he looks like a lizard.  Thanks for reminding me.”

          His sister smirked.  “Don’t get lippy with me, brother … or I’ll put salt in the sugar bowl next time we take tea together.”

         

X*X*X*X*X

 

          _You have the most meddlesome children in creation_ , the Dark One snapped irritably.  _Haven’t you ever thought to adhere to the old adage of ‘children should be seen and not heard’?  You should have taken their tongues!_

          The spinner threw himself against the bars of the cage.  _Leave my family alone, or so help me_ _–_

 _What?  You’ll what, Spinner.  Shake your fist at me?_  The demon giggled uproariously.  _I haven’t had this much control since that brigand made off with your children.  Praying for a miracle, dearie?  Because nothing less than an intervention from the gods will wrest control from me!_

          Rumpelstiltskin laughed, a sound which should have worried the Dark One.  He really had no reason to be so amused. _You’re doing what so many others have done before you, demon.  Underestimating my Belle.  Her father did it for years, and I’m sure he’s regretting it now.  She could have saved her kingdom if Maurice had paid the proper heed to her brilliance for strategy.  There would have been no need to call on us.  She will uncover your plot,”_ he sneered.

          _Pfft.  As if I’m worried about the little princess.  You forget, Spinner_ _…_ _I was forged millennia ago, have been hosted by the most nefarious souls ever to walk the realms and have unlimited power.  Neither of you are any match for me._

And as soon as Belle realizes how much she loves me, all it will take is but a kiss, the spinner mused, holding his silence.  Let the demon think what he would.  He wouldn’t give him another reason to harm his wife.

          _Nothing to say, Rumpel Bumple?  Afraid of the truth, eh?  Good_ _…_ _you’re giving me a fucking headache._

          The demon cackled gleefully to himself as he made his way across the ballroom.  A quick glamour on himself, and he was able to avoid the spinner’s brat.  He was well aware the boy suspected something, but there was little Baelfire could do about it.  There was just one more precaution he’d have to take in order to fulfill his desires.  Rumpelstiltskin, though caged for the moment, couldn’t learn of his latest plan.  It was draining, the amount of magic it took to cast the spinner so deep in his mind he wouldn’t be privy to the Dark One’s consciousness, but it was worth it if it would help him accomplish his goals.

          Several ladies eyed his new form from behind their fans, giggling and tittering with their heads together.  Oh, if only he had time for such a dalliance, he mused.  He nodded politely, and moved off, amused when the child darted past him, searching for his father.  He needed to hurry before the boy alerted the spinner’s wife.

          It took a bit of maneuvering about the crowded ballroom, but finally he located his prey sitting off to the side … alone, thankfully … at one of the tables, drowning his sorrows.  Hopefully, he wasn’t too deep in his cups.  Wouldn’t it be just his luck to hatch such a delicious plan and the man not remember anything in his inebriated state?

          “Well, if it isn’t the great hunter,” the Dark One drawled as he approached.  “Tell me, Sir Gaston, did you have that griffon mounted for your lodge?”

          The lummox smiled, his chest puffing out with pride.  “As a matter of fact I did, Lord …”

          “Lennox.  Surely, you haven’t forgotten your sojourn to my estate!  I must say, it was the highlight of the season having you visit.  Such an esteemed hunter as yourself.”  _Gah!  I may very well puke,_ he thought, playing up to the man’s ego.  _Simpleton!_   It was an easy thing to manipulate the knight’s memories.

          “Of course, good sir!” he boomed jovially.  “Please, have a seat, milord.”

          The Dark One kept an easy smile on his thin lips as he spent the next half hour or so listening to the man expound on the many trophies decorating his lodge.  _Ugh!_   He forced himself to rein in his temper and not smite the fellow.  He’d make such a lovely chameleon.  Finally, he was able to steer the conversation to the princess.

          “I was quite distraught to hear of Avonlea’s recent tragedy,” he murmured with false sympathy.  “First losing dear Queen Colette to the ogres … and then your own beloved betrothed to the Dark One.” He tsked, laying it on thick.  “Such a pity.”

          A servant set another tankard of ale before the knight and he drank deeply, his mood souring.  “It was his price, don’t you know.  Always a bloody price for his cursed magic,” he sneered.  “Demanded Belle’s hand in marriage in exchange for his aid with the ogres.”

          “At least Avonlea is safe, the ogres banished.”

          “You don’t understand, milord.  That vile imp has stolen the woman I love and taken my bid for the crown in one fell swoop.”  Gaston slammed the tankard onto the table, spraying it and the Dark One with tiny droplets of the brew.

          The imp in disguise leaned forward, his elbows on the table as he urged the knight closer.  His sable eyes gleamed with a madness his prey was unaware of, his lips curled into a calculating smile.  “What would you do if I told you I knew of a way to get it all back?”

          The knight’s eyes narrowed on Lennox.  “Get it back?  And give that sorcerer an opportunity to turn me into something worse than a rose?  I think not.”  He huffed in aggravation.  “I sent my man, LeFou to see what he could learn of the imp.  He brought me _nothing.”_

          A laugh bubbled from Rumpelstiltskin’s lips.  “There is a way.  One that would be worth the risk.”

          Gaston frowned, at least willing to hear the man out.  “Go on.”

          The Dark One smiled with smug satisfaction, knowing it wouldn’t take much to convince the knight to agree to his plan.  Gaston’s greed and avarice were legendary.  “The mage isn’t all powerful.  There is a way to control him, to make him grant your every request.  A dagger.  The soul to control the dagger … controls the Dark One.”

          “Hmm … control him?” he queried with interest.  “Not quite what I had in mind for that beast.”

          “Ahhh!  Ambitious, are we?” Rumpelstiltskin chortled.  He sat back in his chair, arching a brow.  “Well, if you’ve no desire to control him … you could take the power for yourself.  It’s quite easy for a man such as yourself.”

          Gaston rubbed a finger over his smooth chin, wondering how much the lord had imbibed before sitting down with him.  “How’s that?”

          “Simply kill him with the dagger, and take the power for yourself.”

          The knight threw back his head and laughed.  “He’s immortal.  No blade in the seven realms can end him.  Though many have tried.”

          The Dark One was quickly losing patience.  “This one will.  He is bound to the blade, chained to it if you will.  It is the _only_ way to kill him.  Think of what you could do with that kind of power, Sir Gaston.  You could reclaim what he’s taken from you … the princess, the throne … the realm.”

          Gaston trembled with desire for the enchanted blade as Rumpelstiltskin painted him a pretty picture.  “And you’ve no doubt of this dagger?  I could really become the Dark One?”

          “Indeed.”

          _And I will have a new host,_ the demon cackled gleefully.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: DON”T HATE ME!!! This very chapter and the angsty plot is why I put it off for over a year. I’m sorry! But alas, it has to happen in order for my lovely happy ending to be brought about. I can’t seem to write a purely fluffy fic. I just don’t have it in me. What would their story be without a little adversity? I promise not to torment you for too long :D Please let me know what you think, even if you want to yell at me! Love to you all, dearies!


	24. More Than Just a Pretty Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Warning for mild smutty themes.

 

          Belle smiled sweetly as her husband swept her up into his arms and carried her over the Dark Castle’s threshold.  She was rather enjoying his playful mood, which made it all the more difficult to believe he was the wolf in sheep’s clothing she knew him to be.  She wouldn’t discount the children’s insistence that the demon had taken over once more.  It had happened on more than one occasion, but their father had been able to regain control over the darkness.  The signs were unmistakable, however; even to one who didn’t know him all that well.  They were small, but she couldn’t deny they were indeed there.  A certain quirk of his lips, a glimpse of madness in his eyes – which seemed more gold than amber – his lack of warmth towards the children.  One more test, and she’d have all the proof she would need.

          “Rumpel!” she cried as he carried her towards the grand marble staircase.  “Darling, I can’t retire just yet.  I must help Morraine out of her gown.  She can’t do it alone.”

          The Dark One growled impatiently.  “Very well.  It’s why he wanted you here, after all,” he grumbled, setting her back on her feet.

          “I beg your pardon?”  A tilt of her head and her azure gaze pierced him.  “ _He_?”

          He cursed a blue streak inside his head which had the spinner blushing.  “Slip of the tongue.  Speaking of which …”  His claws dug into the lace and silk covering her hips and hauled her flush with his body, his mouth crashing roughly against hers, his tongue pushing effortlessly past her lips.

          “Eww! Papa, must you do that in front of us,” Baelfire lamented.

          But it was enough for Belle to know her fears – and the children’s – weren’t unfounded.  She shivered, reaching up to wrap her arms around the demon’s neck.  It pained her to see the darkness take advantage of her husband, but she would play her part, and play it well.  For years, she’d pretended to be happy for her father, the perfect princess afforded every luxury when in truth she was dying inside.  She wouldn’t fail her husband now.  Not when she was beginning to care so deeply for him.  Not when she’d found the happiness she’d sought her entire life.

                    “Children, run along.  I’ll be there momentarily to help you prepare for bed.  I just need a moment with your papa.”

          “Yes, Mama,” they chimed, their little faces the picture of innocence.  It seemed she wasn’t the only one skilled enough for the stage.

          The Dark One yanked her back to him, closing the distance she’d created.  He buried his face against the smooth column of her throat, his ruined teeth nipping sharply at her collarbones.  “I don’t like to wait, precious,” he hissed.  Already she could feel his rigid length pressing hotly against her belly, but for the first time since she’d known him, he stirred no desire within her.

          Belle gave herself over to his kiss for the briefest moment before she pulled away.  “Rumpel, I really must see to the children.”  She blinked slowly, her eyes sloe-lidded as she parted her lips seductively.  It gave her a great sense of power to see him respond.  “Why don’t you go on ahead and run us a bath to share.  You know how I enjoy making love to you in the tub,” she purred.

          The demon ran his tongue over his lower lip, visions of the many ways he would defile her dancing through his head.  He was so excited; he was even able to block the spinner’s anguished cries from reaching him.  He nearly swallowed his tongue as she brushed her hand wantonly over his erection and gave him a gentle squeeze.  “Half an hour, little wife,” he rasped in a broken whisper.  “Don’t make me come for you.”

          Belle pressed one more kiss to his lips, putting as much enthusiasm into it as she could, considering she felt as if she were betraying her husband.  “Half an hour.”  Turning from him, she put a little extra effort into the sway of her hips.  She smiled at him over her shoulder as she rounded the corner to take the corridor to the children’s rooms.  As soon as she was clear, she sprinted all the way to Morraine’s door, crashing through it with zeal as she fought to catch her breath.  She pushed it shut and leaned against it, pressing a hand to her breast to calm her thundering heart.

          “Bloody hellfire!” she gasped weakly, fighting the nausea rising within her.  “I’m so sorry I doubted you, children.”

          They crowded her on either side, clinging to her in their sorrow.  “Mama, I think I know what we can do,” Bae whispered, his sable eyes bright with hope.  “I just don’t know if it can be done.  Papa has a stash of squid ink in his laboratory … in the potions cabinet.  If we can get our hands on it -”

          “And what is Mama supposed to do with it?  Walk up to him with a questionable vial of viscous liquid and dump it on his head?” Morraine asked, pacing the length of the rug next to her dressing table.  “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but we need something more reliable.”

          Belle barely heard their argument, her own plan forming quickly in her head.  “We need the dagger,” she breathed, sending up a fervent prayer to the gods her husband wasn’t somehow eavesdropping on them.

          Morraine groaned.  “But papa keeps it locked away in the vault.”

          “Yes, he does … but Rumpelstiltskin is much more cautious than the Dark One.  When I was looking for your father this morning, I checked his workroom.  For whatever reasons he needed it, he didn’t put it away when he was done with it.  If it’s still there, I know I will need it tonight.”

          “Mama, you’re brilliant,” Morraine gushed.  “But you can’t just walk on in there and take it.  He’ll know the moment you touch it.”

          A rather devious grin spread across their mother’s lips.  “I can’t … but Bae _can_.”

          “I can?” the boy asked, eyes wide and fearful.  The first lesson he’d learned long ago was to stay far away from that cursed blade, and now his mother wanted him to steal it out from under his father’s nose?

          “You are his blood, Baelfire.  Laying your hands on the dagger would be just like him touching it himself.  He’d never suspect.  Though just to be sure, wear your dragon-hide gloves you use when working in the greenhouse,” Belle warned.  “I need you to wrap the dagger in a cloth and bring it to me here.  He can’t know I have it until I’m ready to confront him.”

          Morraine gave her mother her back so she could start on the long row of buttons to free her from her ballgown.  “Mama, I’m frightened of what he might do to you.”

          “Which is why the dagger is key.”

          Baelfire threw his arms about them both.  “I won’t fail you, Mama.”

          Belle pressed a kiss to her son’s brow and ruffled his unruly curls.  “I know you won’t, my darling.  Now hurry!”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          “Please … don’t hurt her,” the spinner begged, his fingers white-knuckled on the cage within his own mind.  “Belle’s threshold for pain is incredibly low.  She needs a gentle touch.  Please!  Hurt me … not my wife.”  He didn’t care what the demon had in store for him, as long as his family was safe.

          The Dark One grinned cheekily at his reflection in the mirror, enjoying the sight of the spinner in the glass so lost in sorrow.  “You must really love her, Spinner.  How positively delightful,” he chortled.  “Just think of the ways I can break her.  I can make her beggggg.  I can bring her to the brink of madness using my magic along with this pathetic husk of a body.  Is that what you’re so afraid of … that your precious pet will prefer sex with me rather than you?”

          The spinner glowered at him, teeth gnashing.  “She will see right through you.  You won’t be able to fool her.”

          The demon preened, amber eyes glowing with mirth.  “And then the real fun will begin, will it not?  I don’t know why I bother.  There’s little the princess can do but accept my will.”

          Rumpelstiltskin’s head dropped against the bars of the cage, his despair overwhelming.  No matter what he did, he couldn’t break the demon’s control, and now his beloved wife would suffer for it.  Tears pricked his lids as he thought of his Belle.  He’d sworn to protect her, and now it was his own body which would crush her, take her.  He felt like the cowardly spinner who’d been scorned by his village, powerless to safeguard the woman he loved.  He glanced up from the bars, the weight of his failures sitting heavily upon his shoulders to find the Dark One eyeing him with interest.

          “Don’t worry, Spinner.  I won’t harm your little love.  What would be the fun in that when I can toy with her at my leisure?  I want her fire, her passion, her desire to be a good wife and bring her husband pleasure,” he snickered.  “I’ve never been fond of a woman who just lays there like a cold fish.”

          He turned away from the mirror, whipping the shirt over his head and tossing it aside.  A wisp of magic filled the tub, as per Belle’s request, as he felt the spinner slide down the bars of his cell and bury his head against his knees.  A surge of power flooded through him, Rumpelstiltskin’s sorrow fueling him.  He scowled at the tub, wondering what could be taking the princess so long to join him.  It excited him, knowing it was _he_ who would have her that evening instead of experiencing the pleasures of her flesh secondhand.  And if it broke the spinner a little more, all the better.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          Belle trembled as she stood in the corridor leading to the chamber she shared with her husband.  She hadn’t felt such fear since that first night she’d come to him, expecting pain and trauma at his hands as he slaked his lust upon her flesh.  Instead, she’d been treated to his kindness and patience.  But it wasn’t her sweet husband awaiting her on the other side of that door, but the dark entity who shared his body.  However was she to prevail over a centuries old demon forged from pure unadulterated evil?  She bit her lip in an effort to still their trembling.  She could do this, she tried to convince herself.  Trapped somewhere within his own mind, her husband needed her.  She couldn’t fail him.  _And_ she had the dagger.  It would aid her to keep the Dark One from harming her.

          Baelfire had returned to Morraine’s room with the kris, a bandaged hand and a beaming smile.  His sister was going to have to live with his pride for days to come, having succeeded in his task.  Belle would have to reward him for his courage on the morrow … if she survived the night ahead.  The enchanted blade was an unfamiliar weight strapped to her thigh beneath her long gown, the steel wrapped in burlap so it wouldn’t touch her skin.  She needed to be patient and choose her moment.

          Belle forced a calm she didn’t feel, schooling her features into some semblance of warmth.  He would be expecting it, having no clue she’d discovered his ruse.  Her shoulders squared with determination as she placed her hand on the doorknob and pushed it open.  “Rumpel?” she called, thankful her fear wasn’t evident in her voice.

          The Dark One poked his head around the door leading into their bathing chamber, a slow smile of appreciation curling his lips as his dark gaze swept over her top to toe.  “In here, preciousssss,” he drawled.

          _Oh, yes_ _…_ _definitely NOT my husband._   He stood there in nothing but his leather breeches, a sight which usually sent a warm curl of desire through her.  Tonight, it did nothing but strengthen her resolve to save Rumpelstiltskin.  One foot in front of the other brought her to him, watching him carefully for any sudden movements which would take her unaware.  “You didn’t start without me, I hope,” she whispered in what she prayed was a seductive tone.

          “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

          Belle turned quickly as he reached for her, giving him her back so he might help her with the laces.  She gasped as a snap of his spell clever fingers rid her of the gown completely.  She was left standing there exposed and vulnerable in naught but her shift and stockings.  A nervous chuckle bubbled from her parted lips as she leaned back in his embrace.  “Someone’s eager this evening.”

          He shivered, pressing his erection against the cleft of her ass.  His teeth nipped sharply against her shoulder as he crushed her to him.  “Indeed,” he hissed, losing himself in her sweet floral scent.  “What say we skip the bath, precious, and get right to the main event?”

          The breath stuttered painfully in her chest, fear chilling the blood in her veins at the thought of allowing him to take her to bed.  She curled one arm back to drape around her neck, her fingers tangling in his soft hair as she reached for the hem of her shift, inching it up to bare her right thigh.  He was distracted, his left hand roughly roaming her body and dipping between her legs to cup her mound.  “That sounds wonderful … as soon as you give my husband back to me.”

          The harsh scrape of his teeth against her collarbone ceased as he gripped her upper arms in a punishing grip and turned her to face him.  “And just who else would I be, princess?” he sneered, realizing the game was up when he looked down into her cerulean eyes.  A steely inner strength shone back at him, and he cursed.

          Belle smiled sadly.  “Did you really think I wouldn’t know the difference in your touch, your kiss?  After Rumpelstiltskin spent a month lavishing me in his affection?”

          The Dark One’s lip curled back over his teeth in a menacing smile.  “Clever girl,” he snarled, his fingers tightening around her arms.  “Yet, it changes _nothing_.  I _will_ have you!”

          She pushed the cloth aside and curled her hand over the hilt of the dagger, her breath catching as she felt a surge of power shoot up her arm to raise the fine hairs along her nape.  “Think again, _dearie_.”  It was immensely satisfying to see the rage roiling in his eyes as she lifted the dagger between them.  “Release me … now!”

          He pushed her away from him and took a step back.  He wasn’t afraid she’d try to stab him with the kris.  Lord forbid she harm her precious Rumpelstiltskin.  He simply had no desire to be near her after she’d just betrayed him.  The spinner rattled the bars of his cage, tasting his impending freedom.  “How did you get that?” he hissed.

          Belle crossed an arm over her chest, keeping the other braced between them to ward him off.  “Because you are much more careless with the blade than my husband is.”

          “Woman, there was a blood lock on the chest.  You couldn’t have broken through it!”

          “No … but Bae could.  Did you forget he shares your host’s blood?”

          Steam curled around them from the bath, forcing away the chill in the room.  “An oversight I won’t likely make again.  Give me the dagger, precious,” he gentled his tone, cajoling and sweet.  “You don’t want to accidentally slip and risk harming Rumpelstiltskin, do you?”

          Belle arched a brow, daring him to come closer.  She knew he wouldn’t like having her as his host, her will much too strong for his liking.  “That won’t be an issue for much longer.  Give him back, demon.  Relinquish your control on him and give him back to me.  I command you, as your mistress, to obey me.”

          The demon roared in outrage, vowing revenge as he slumped to his knees, the compulsion of the dagger more than he could fight.  He could feel the noose tightening about him, sapping his strength and stealing away the precious control he’d garnered.  The spinner seemed weak with relief as he happily traded placed with the Dark One, his consciousness springing to the forefront. 

          Rumpelstiltskin raised his warm amber gaze to his wife, his hand lifting for her to take it, to come to him as he didn’t have the strength as yet to even crawl to her.  “B-Belle …”

          She wanted to run to him, to hurl herself into his arms and never let him go, but she knew the demon was a trickster of the highest caliber.  She couldn’t allow herself to be fooled.  “Is it really you?  I have the dagger … you have to answer truthfully.”

          Then she knew, seeing the lone tear trickle from the corner of his eye before his head bowed and a sob broke free from his throat.  “I swear to you, on my honor, on the lives of my children … I _am_ your husband,” he vowed.

          Belle didn’t hesitate a moment longer, closing the distance between them and wrapping herself about him.  She drew his head to her shoulder and did her best to soothe him as he regained his strength.  “Oh, Rumpel …”

          “You’re frightened of me now.  I can feel you through the dagger.”

          She brushed her own tears away as she rose and helped him to his feet, leading him back into their bedchamber.  “I’m better now you’re in control once more.”

          “I’m so sorry,” he demurred, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his eyes downcast in shame.

          Belle dropped down beside him, a gentle finger beneath his chin drawing his gaze up to meet hers.  “Stop apologizing, darling,” she whispered softly.  “Just … please, just tell me how this happened.”

          Rumpelstiltskin sighed deeply.  “I let myself be happy.  I got lost in you, Belle, and relaxed my guard.  It made it easy for the demon to wrest control from me.”

          She pushed him back onto the pillows and curled herself against his side, resting the dagger on his chest.  “Well, I have you back now.  We’ll just have to take preventative measures to keep him from taking control again.”

          He took her hand and wrapped it around the hilt of the dagger once more.  “How did you even get the kris?  I locked it in the vault, pet.”

          “You don’t remember?”

          “Sometimes, when he has control, he’s able to block me from seeing what he’s about,” he admitted unreservedly.  He wouldn’t hide the truth of his curse from her if he could help it.  Being locked away from her had been more painful that if she’d plunge the dagger into his chest, and he didn’t want lies to come between them now.

          Belle frowned.  “He summoned it to the workroom yesterday when he was trying to crack a rather nasty spell on some enchanted object or other.  A comb, I believe.  He said it would curse the wearer and he wanted to know how it worked.  He left the dagger in the chest on the table.  When I went looking for you before it was time to leave for the wedding, I noticed he hadn’t put it away.  I simply asked Bae to fetch it for me.”  She sat up, her eyes fraught with upset as she looked down on him.  “I was afraid, Rumpel.  I didn’t know what else to do to protect myself and the children.”

          “Shh,” he soothed, brushing a stray curl away from her brow.  “You were quite clever to send him for it.  You wouldn’t be able to get past blood magic by yourself, my clever girl.”  He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, needing the connection.  The wealth of love he held for her still scared him at times, and he couldn’t wait for the day he could shout it to the world.  “I want you to hold onto this … keep it with you at all times, in case I –“

          “Rum, no!  I don’t want to control you,” she cried, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

          “I know that, pet, but it is for your own safety.  I cannot allow this to happen again.”

          “It won’t!” she insisted.

          Rumpelstiltskin shook his head sadly.  “You don’t know that, dearest,” he crooned, his hand running along the length of her spine in measured strokes.  “I can’t take the chance he’ll gain control again and seek vengeance against you.”  His brow pressed to hers, the sting of tears battering his eyes which he refused to shed.  “I can’t lose you, Belle!  Now, promise me.”

          Her lip trembled as she met his fierce gaze.  She wanted no part of the dagger, but she would not deny him peace of mind after everything he’d been through.  She cared too much.  “I promise.”  It wasn’t something she took lightly, either.  She would keep the cursed blade on her person for however long he wished it, and she would watch him closely for signs of the demon’s return.

          Her promise seemed to bring him comfort.  Belle clung to him, her arms tight about him as she sought his warmth.  His embrace soothed her as well, and she had almost drifted off into a restless doze when a knock sounded on their chamber door.

          “Come in, my little dearies,” he called.

          The children fidgeted in the doorway, casting their anxious gazes between their parents.  Baelfire, especially, searched his father’s features for signs of the demon, but found only sorrow.  “Papa?”

          Rumpelstiltskin held his free arm open to his son as Morraine rushed to her mother.  “It’s alright, Bae.  Your mama saw to that.”

          “Are you ok, Mama?” Morraine asked, burrowing her head against Belle’s chest.  “Did he –“

          “I’m well, Morraine.   He didn’t hurt me, sweetling.”

          “We were so worried,” the boy sniffled, laying his head against his father’s shoulder.

          Their father hugged his son close to him.  “I’m so proud of you, Baelfire.  It took great courage to sneak into my workroom and retrieve the dagger for Belle.”

          Bae grinned sheepishly under his father’s praise.  “You’re not mad?  I know I’m not supposed to go in there without you.”

          “You had Mama’s permission, Bae,” Morraine said with a yawn.  Due to the excitement of the day and the worry over their parents, she was exhausted.

          Rumpelstiltskin looked down at his children.  “What made you suspect I wasn’t myself, dearies?”

          Baelfire shrugged.  “I dunno.  Little things, I guess.  He called Morraine ‘little one’.”

          The girl nodded.  “He called Mama ‘precious’, and you never do that.”

          Belle caught her husband’s gaze.  “He was cold where you are warm, rough where you are gentle.  I didn’t want to believe the children when they came to me with their suspicions, but I couldn’t blindly flounder about with my head stuck in the sand either.”

          “We’ll have to be on our guard … all of us,” the mage murmured, feeling the pull of sleep tugging at him.  “This cannot happen again.”

          “It won’t, Papa,” Morraine nodded sagely.  “We’ll watch over you.”

          Bae pulled at the duvet as he too yawned.  “Can we stay here with you and Mama tonight?  I don’t want to sleep alone,” he grumbled.

          Belle reached over her daughter and laid the dagger on her bedside table before ruffling her son’s hair.  “Of course, darling.  I don’t think any of us want to be alone tonight.”

          The fire in the hearth crackled merrily as the mage extinguished the candles with a bit of magic.  He held his family close, savoring the moment of peace which enveloped him in its soothing embrace.  He didn’t want to sleep, would rather watch over them as they all drifted off into slumber, but the contentment flooding his body and mind refused to be denied and he succumbed to blissful oblivion, Belle’s warm breath against his throat.

         

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope this chapter soothes the lot of you who were outraged with the cliffie last week :D Unfortunately, it’s the eye of the storm, dearies. I have a lot more coming, so hang on to your hats! Thank you all so much for the reviews … not to mention a bucket of chocolate hearts to those who are still reading this story after I took such a long hiatus. Y’all are the best! See you next week!!!


	25. The Beginning of the End

 

          “I don’t want to leave you,” Rumpelstiltskin grumbled petulantly as he sat on the edge of the bed at his ailing wife’s side.  “You’re not well.  What if something should happen in my absence?”

          Belle cracked one eye open and shot him a baleful stare.  It had been a little over a month since she’d been forced to take control of his dagger, and he hadn’t left the castle without her even once.  That last episode where the demon had gained the upper hand had shaken Rumpelstiltskin badly, and he suffered panic attacks if he was far from her side, afraid it would happen again.  “Darling, you’ll be fine.  You’ve sequestered yourself away in the castle for too long as it is.  There are deals to be made.  I’m not going to allow you to become a hermit, nor will I let you miss out on helping some unfortunate soul because I am ill and can’t go with you.”

          He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to her knuckles.  “If you would just let me see for myself –“

          She swatted his hand away.  “No!  All magic comes with a price, and I will not make you pay it just to discover what is wrong with me.  It was something I ate, I’m sure.  Something which didn’t agree with me.  We never know what we’re going to find in that enchanted pantry of yours,” she grinned.  “I’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

          The sorcerer’s brows drew together in a dark frown.  The downside of her possessing the dagger was his inability to disobey her.  The upside was the myriad emotions he could feel swirling within her.  And because he could feel the slight upset in her belly, he knew it was nothing serious.  “Won’t you at least let me brew a tonic to help ease your nausea?”

          Belle sighed.  “If you insist, but _only_ when you return from your visit to Midas.  I’m rather interested to see what kind of deal he wishes to discuss with you.”

          “Yes, because our last one went over so well.  The children were rather disappointed in me over that one.”

          A little giggle escaped her as she sipped at the peppermint tea in her cup.  “He asked for riches, and you gave him the power to turn anything he touched to pure gold.  I’d say you gave him a bit of a boon.”

          “I was new to the curse.  It was an accident!” he replied in his own defense.  “It wasn’t until the contract was complete that Baelfire came to me with his concerns.”

          “Which were?” she asked, twining her fingers with his.

          Rumpelstiltskin cringed.  “Bae was worried of what would happen if Midas accidentally touched someone he loved … a wife, a daughter, a servant.  I should have been more cautious in granting his request.”

          Belle sat up against the mound of pillows at her back and reached for him, pulling him into a warm embrace.  “It’s not easy having the Dark One goading you into things, Rumpel.  It’s taken time to acclimate yourself.  Just as the king did.  He seemed quite well at Cora and Henry’s wedding.”

          “The deal can wait a few days.  Until you’re better,” he grumbled, still uncomfortable with the thought of leaving her alone.

          She shook her head.  “No, go today.  In a few days, I’ll be better and we can spend the day in the village shopping for Yuletide.  It will be upon us soon, you know.”  She wasn’t going to have him moping about the castle fretting over her condition when he had the opportunity for a distraction.

          “But –“

          Belle cut him off, pressing her lips to his in a lingering kiss.  “Go, darling.  The sooner you’re done, the sooner you can return to me,” she purred sweetly.

          The mage cradled her closer, burying his nose against the ivory column of her throat, reveling in her warmth.  “I’ll be home in time for dinner,” he groused, reluctant to release her.

          “And I’ll be waiting.  Be safe.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          “Mama, are you feeling better?” Morraine asked as she set the tea tray down on the coffee table.  To say she was worried would be a vast understatement. 

          Baelfire lounged on the rug next to the fire, nibbling an apple.  “You’d think you’d be over it if it had been something bad you’d eaten.”

          Belle smiled at her children.  “I am feeling a bit better, my darlings.  I’m sure it’s nothing.”

          “It’s nice outside today since the snow stopped.  Why don’t you come out to the courtyard with us?” the girl suggested.  “Perhaps the fresh air and sunshine will perk you up.”

          Belle shook her head.  “No, I think I’ll just rest here in the hall for a bit,” she said, tapping her fingers against the book on her lap.  “I really would like to finish this before your father gets home.  Don’t let that stop you from going outside, though.  There’s no need for either of you to hover over me.”

          Morraine shared a concerned look with her brother, but she nodded, her shoulders slumping dejectedly.  If anything were to happen to their mother … She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Belle’s cheek.  “Alright, Mama.”

          Baelfire pushed himself up from the floor.  “You’ll shout for us if you need anything?”

          “Yes, my little magpies.  Don’t fret,” she chuckled.  “Go, have fun … and bundle up.  Just because it isn’t snowing doesn’t mean it’s not freezing out there.”  She sighed, watching them go.  There was no reason for them to remain cooped up in the castle when the weather was decent.  She hoped her husband was warm enough, though the cold didn’t seem to affect him overmuch.  Another perk of the curse.  If only they could rid him of that blasted demon.

          Belle stared down at the passage in her book, trying to focus on the sword fight waging between the brave knight and the villain who’d stolen away his true love, but the words blurred on the page.  The stinging in her bladder just wasn’t going to allow her to finish the chapter.  At least her stomach had settled.  She trekked to the water closet off the main hall to relieve her discomfort, shaking her head at the mess the children had left.  Yet, staring down at the scattered cloths Morraine used for her monthly had her freezing in place.

          When was the last time she’d had her own cycle?  She braced a hand against the lavatory and stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face ghostly pale.  A quick count in her head had her heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribs.  She’d been at the Dark Castle for a little over three months, and she couldn’t remember having her monthly after … her and Rumpelstiltskin had consummated … Oh, gods!  She swooned a bit, thankful the wall was there to lend its support.  The nausea she’d been experiencing lately only in the mornings, the loss of her usual appetite, tiring easily and the absence of her cycle.

          She made her way back to the hall in somewhat of a daze.  Could she really be pregnant?  Did her husband even want another child?  It had to have crossed his mind at some point before he’d coaxed her to his bed.  And if it hadn’t, it bloody well should have!  Her heart fluttered as her hand drifted down to her flat belly.  A baby!  An issue of the love she shared with her husband.  She sucked in a sharp breath, the weight of her emotions slamming into her.  Love.  She _loved_ Rumpelstiltskin!  She groaned.  And he wasn’t there for her to tell him.  She could have wept.

          Did he feel the same?  Her former life had been sadly lacking in the love department.  No wonder it had taken her so long to realize what she’d been feeling for him was love.  A true abiding love at that.  She couldn’t wait to tell him!  Briefly, she wondered if she should tell the children her happy news about the possible baby.  No, it would be best to wait until Rumpelstiltskin could confirm her suspicions.   The sound of a carriage trundling along the cobblestones in the courtyard drew her out of her myriad thoughts, urging her to her feet.  It was rare someone ventured to the Dark Castle, and it unsettled her today being her husband was away on business.  What was worse, the children were outside instead of in the safety of the castle.  Her sorcerer had warded the gates to prevent anyone from entering who meant him or his family harm, and she couldn’t imagine anyone being able to get past his magic.

          Belle was quick to hide her surprise as she opened the door to see her father’s traveling coach.  She was less thrilled to see Gaston astride his black stallion.  “Gaston,” she acknowledged as he dismounted.  “What brings you to the Dark Castle?” she asked, looking to the carriage for any sign of her father.  Wouldn’t he be traveling with more outriders?  Her eyes flickered up to the driver who sat with his cap pulled low over his eyes.  She didn’t recognize him, and Maurice had employed the same coachman since she’d been a little girl.

          “My lady,” Gaston greeted, bowing low, a wide smile on his handsome face.  “I’ve brought your papa for a visit.  Aren’t you going to say hello?”

          She forced a smile to her face as she took in the heavy drapes covering the windows.  She trembled as her foot drifted to the step below her.  “Of course, Gaston,” she demurred, proud she’d kept her screaming nerves from being heard in her voice.  “He no doubt drifted off a quarter of the way here.”  Belle clutched the dragon amulet about her neck in a tight grip as she moved down the steps, skirting around him.

          “He’s been worried about you, dear.  It will put his mind at ease to see how well you look.”

          Alarm bells rang loudly in the back of her mind.  The knight seemed … off.  His smile was too oily, his posture too confident, but it was the venomous gleam in his eyes which should have warned her to run.  Yet, her father held no ill will towards her.  She’d just seen him at Cora and Henry’s wedding, and they’d made amends.  He just wanted her to be happy.  What was going on?  Her hand shook as she reached out to open the door, her breath catching in her throat.  She wanted to gather the children to her and seek refuge inside the castle.  But the door opened beneath her hand and stark terror gripped her with its icy fingers.

          The fiend’s arm wrapped tightly about her waist as she swayed unsteadily on her feet.  He shoved her into the coach to land hard on her hands.  Baelfire and Morraine sat on the seat above her bound and gagged, their eyes wide with fear.  Belle pushed herself up to glare at her former betrothed, her lips pulled back over her teeth in a snarl.  “Have you lost your bloody mind?  You can’t very well have forgotten the last time you crossed my husband,” she hissed furiously, putting herself between him and her children.

          Gaston smirked, leaning against the open door as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “Actually, Belle, I’ve never been more clear.  Of course, I haven’t forgotten Rumpelstiltskin’s penchant for magic, but it’s time for a change, my dear.  He can’t be allowed all that power when he can’t seem to control it, now can he?”

          Belle eased her hand towards the hem of her skirt, but thought better of reaching for the dagger just yet.  “How did you get past the wards?  They’re there to protect us and keep people like you OUT!”

          The knight laughed.  “Well, you see, dear Belle, I ran into an old friend of mine at the wedding.  He spun a delightful tale about the Dark One and his dagger.  I simply needed to come in here with the best of intentions in order to pass.  I don’t mean you or those little moppets any harm, you see.”  The smile vanished from his face as he reached into the coach and ripped the pendant from around her neck.  “We’ll just leave him a message, shall we?  To let him know how serious I am.”

          He tossed the amulet on the top step and climbed into the coach with them.  Belle wedged herself between her children and began to release them from their restraints.  “Let them go and I will give you the dagger, Gaston.”  She would deal with the repercussions later.  Right then, the children’s safety was uppermost in her mind.  It is what Rumpelstiltskin would want.  He would do anything to protect them.

          The coachman jumped down and tied the stallion to the back of the coach before resuming his seat and whipping the team of matched grays into motion.

          Gaston shook his head at her.  “I don’t think so, princess.  It will be much better if the imp brings the dagger to exchange for his little family,” he sneered.

          Morraine whimpered, wrapping her arms about her mother and pressing her face against her throat, silent tears coursing over her cheeks.  Baelfire glared at the evil man across from them.  “My papa will never give the dagger to you!  He has the power to take us back, moron,” he snapped.  “Gods, are you really that dense?”

          “Bae!” Belle admonished, clapping a silencing hand over his mouth. 

          The knight arched a brow at the boy.  “We’ll just see what’s more important to him, then, won’t we?  His family … or his power.”

          Belle slipped her hand into the fake pocket of her skirt, her fingers wrapping tightly around the leather-bound handle, pulling it from its sheath strapped to her thigh.  His name shrieked from her lips as she brandished it at the knight.  But instead of the fear she’d expected to see in Gaston’s eyes, she saw avarice and triumph.  He yanked it from her hand with his superior strength, leaving them all dumbstruck.

          “You weren’t pulling my leg, were you, dear?  You really had it.  I’m rather impressed.  This changes things, but it doesn’t matter … so long as my plan comes to fruition.”

          Belle pulled her children close, angry tears spilling over her cheeks as her husband materialized in the coach next to the knight.  His lips parted, but no sound would emerge, horror filling his eyes as he looked at his family across from him.

          “Belle …” 

          “Rumpel …”  A sob tore from her throat at the sound of heartbreak in her husband’s voice.  She buried her face against Morraine’s hair and wept.

          “How tragic,” the knight sneered.  “You really do love him.”  He chortled long and loud.  “This is just more than I ever dreamed.”  His gaze finally settled on the imp who sat frozen under his new master’s dominion, unable to do anything until bid.  “Dark One … oh, I do like the sound of that … go to my keep, the dungeon I think will serve you nicely.  You will remain there until we arrive.  You may think of how you’ve wronged me and are deserving of your punishment.  Begone!”

          Baelfire took advantage of the knight’s distraction, his fingers fisting in his father’s sleeve as he disappeared, landing a right to Gaston’s eye before he vanished along with Rumpelstiltskin.

          “Little bastard!” he roared, reaching for his stinging eye.  “I’ll deal with him when we reach my keep.  There’s only so many places he could hide.”

          Morraine and Belle gaped at the seat where the boy had been mere seconds ago, as Gaston cursed.  Not many could say they’d gotten one over on the man.  And he was furious!  Belle knew her son would be safe with his father.  “What are you going to do with my husband, Gaston?” she asked.  Her heart screamed in pain, but she had to be strong for her family now, to somehow figure a way out of their nightmare.

          “Relax, princess.  There’s plenty of time to discuss my plans for the Dark One … and _you_.”   

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          Rumpelstiltskin stared at his son through wide panicked eyes, unable to believe Baelfire’s audacity.  “Have you lost your mind, Bae?  What were you thinking?!” he hissed, dragging his precious boy into the circle of his arms.  “You don’t realize the danger you’re in.”

          “Not the first time we’ve been in this level of crazy.”  Baelfire clung to his father, his face buried against his chest.  “Papa, I couldn’t let you come here alone,” the boy whispered, his voice heavy with tears he refused to shed.  “Mama tried to summon you with the dagger, but he ripped it out of her hand.  I know we’re in trouble,” he sniffled, “but I couldn’t leave you.”

          “Oh, son.”  He held his boy close, resting his cheek against Bae’s dark unruly curls.  Already he could feel the demon stirring within, trying to free himself to answer his new master’s need for power.  It would take every ounce of determination and strength Rumpelstiltskin possessed to keep him chained.  He couldn’t afford to fall apart now.  “You need to leave.  I must stay, but you –“:

          “No!”

          “Yes!” Rumpelstiltskin insisted.  He pulled a short silver dagger from his boot and pressed it into his son’s hands.  “Take this and go … find your mother and sister and try to get them out if you can, but you must go before he arrives.  Do whatever it takes to keep yourself safe, Bae.”

          Baelfire looked down at the blade in his hand.  “I’ll think of something, Papa.  I-I’m not afraid … well, maybe a little afraid, but I’m not going to give up.  There’s got to be something I can do.  How did he even know about the dagger?”

          The mage took in his new prison, the cold stone walls damp and overgrown with a layer of algae from an age-old drip, old straw upon the bare dirt floor and bars on the lone window and set into the closed door.  It was depressing in light of his new circumstances.  Nothing he couldn’t bust through with a burst of magic if the knight didn’t possess the kris.  Yet, it wasn’t enough to cage his son.  “I have a fair few ideas as to how he might’ve learned of the dagger, but there’s nothing I can do as long as he holds the blade.  You know I am chained to his whim.”

          “It’s not fair!  We were h-happy, papa.  Even you,” he muttered in a low tone, the weight of his sadness nigh crushing his small shoulders.

          A lone tear escaped the corner of Rumpelstiltskin’s eye to roll over his swarthy cheek.  “Tell your mother … tell her I love her.  I never got the chance.  I waited too long and now it’s too late,” he rasped, choking on the words.  “It doesn’t matter that she … she didn’t return my feelings.  I love her to the very depths of my soul.”  He tried to stay strong for his son, but it was a losing battle.  “Tell Morraine she has always been the daughter of my heart.  I love you both so much, Bae.”

          Baelfire gripped the front of his father’s dragon-hide coat and gave him a little shake.  “Papa, stop!  I’m not going to stand here and listen to you say goodbye.  I’m going to find Mama and ‘Raine and get us the hell out of here.”  He gave Rumpelstiltskin a quick hug and bolted for the door.  “Just promise you won’t give up.  Promise you won’t let the demon win.”

          “I promise,” the mage answered, hating himself for the lie.  There was little he could do when the knight held him in thrall.  It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, watching his son disappear through that door.  His heart screamed to run after him, but the curse held him firmly in place.  All he could do was pray to the gods who’d forsaken him to keep his family safe.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          Belle fought against the fear coiling in her belly as her former betrothed led her through the main entrance of his modest keep and into the den he kept for his pleasure.  A fire roared in the hearth, chasing away the chill, though she felt as if she’d never be warm again.  The furniture was heavy and dark, the rug before the fire a deep blood red.  Morraine shrunk into her mother’s side as she took in the mounted trophy heads hanging upon the wall.

          Gaston flopped into a well-worn chair, the leather indented from former use to match the lines of his body.  He grinned at her as he threw a leg over the arm and settled back.  “Have a seat, Belle.  I expect you to be comfortable in your new home.”

          She held tightly to her daughter, smoothing a hand over Morraine’s dark blond hair as she tried to soothe her.  Yet, she didn’t move from her spot by the hearth.  A servant entered with a tray bearing a single glass and a cut crystal decanter of peach brandy.

          “Set it there, Mortimer,” he drawled, instructing the servant.  “Prepare a pot of tea for my guest, and send Penny to show the girl here to her room.”

          Morraine trembled, shooting Belle a panicked look.  “Mama …”

          Gaston smirked.  “Not to worry, girl.  Belle will be joining you shortly.  After our little chat.”

          Belle didn’t appreciate his tone.  She pressed a kiss to her daughter’s brow.  “Not to worry, darling.  Everything will be well.  Trust me,” she added the last in a conspiratorial whisper, her cerulean gaze pleading with Morraine to understand she would do all she could to keep her safe.

          Morraine nodded, but didn’t release the vise-like grip she had about Belle’s waist until the maid came to lead her away.

          Belle leveled the knight with a cold stare.  This was the man she’d been destined to marry, the man her father had chosen for her.  Either Gaston was highly skilled at hiding his true nature, or Maurice was a horrible judge of character.  Not for the first time, she sent a silent prayer to the gods for leading her to Rumpelstiltskin.  He’d saved her in so many ways, and she loved him all the more for it.  Now it was time for her to return the favor.

          She held her waspish tongue until the servants delivered the tea tray Gaston had requested and left them alone.  “I don’t want tea, comfort or polite conversation, Gaston.  I want answers,” she demanded, her princess mein firmly in place.  “What are your intentions?”

          Belle shivered from the look he cast her way.  “Sit. Down,” he ordered, his voice even colder.  She complied.  It was imperative to pick her moments, and she could see this wasn’t one of them.  “Now, isn’t that better?”  He pointed at her with the hand which held the glass of spirits.  “There’s no need to fear me, Belle.  As I said, I mean _you_ no harm.”

          Her hand trembled as she reached forward to the tray to pour herself a cup of tea.  She had no intention of drinking it, not trusting him not to have had his servants drug it, but she desperately needed the warmth seeping into her cold hands.  “I’m certain that doesn’t hold true for my husband nor my children.”

          His lips curled back in a sneer.  “That imp stole everything from me, Belle.  My betrothed, my bid for the crown, the respect of my men!”  He threw back his head and laughed.  “Oh, yes.  He must die, my dear.  And when he does, I will have the power to take it all back.”

          The cup fell from her numb fingers, dropping to the hardwood as her hand rose to her mouth in horror.  “You want the curse to be yours,“ she choked out in a horrified whisper.

          Gaston shrugged, settling back in his chair as he sipped the brandy in his glass.  “You seem surprised.”

          “Has it occurred to you the extent of the power you will be taking on?  This isn’t like going to the local hedge witch for a charm, Gaston.  This is the Dark One, a parasite … a demon who will chatter away in your mind, manipulating you, goading you to bend to his will.  You cannot want this.”

          “Pfft,” he scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.  “What do you know about it?”

          Belle shot angrily to her feet.  “What do I know?!  Are you really that thick?  I’ve lived with my husband for nearly four months, Gaston.  I’ve seen firsthand what that curse can do to a man.”  She turned away from him, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.  Her Rumpel was sweet and kind, gentle by nature, and she’d seen his struggle to keep the dark entity inside him from harming his family.  What would the darkness be like to have Gaston as its host, a man inherently evil who would revel in the destruction he could cause?  She braced a hand against the mantel over the hearth and stared down into the flames.  “Please … don’t do this.”

          The knight chuckled darkly as he rose and advanced on her, his hands curling around her upper arms in a punishing grip.  “And just what would you have me do, my dear Belle … let him go?  That wouldn’t be wise on my part.  He wouldn’t hesitate to kill me, and I plan to live for quite a few years yet.”

          She blinked back her tears as panic curled snakelike behind her breastbone.  “Please, Gaston … I beg of you.  Don’t kill my husband.”

          His grip tightened on her, and she was sure she’d find bruises upon her tender flesh come the morrow.  “He’s not your husband, Belle!  You are _mine!_   Your father promised your hand to me long ago, and by the gods, you will honor the agreement.  I _will_ be king!” he roared.  “Did you think I would be satisfied controlling him?  Though that would be rather amusing for a while.  No, I will not have him in my keep so my wife can pine for him.”

          “What of my children, Gaston?” she asked quietly, quelling her urge to strike back at him.

          He huffed a bitter laugh.  “They’re not yours, Belle.  Yet, I can see the imp’s little bastards might prove useful to keep you in line.”

          “You would use them as leverage against me?!” she hissed indignantly.  “They’re children!”

          “They do make the most wonderful bargaining chips, do they not?” he said, loosely curling his hand around her delicate throat as his meaty arm wrapped about her waist.  She felt a return of her nausea as his breath wafted over face.  She had to think of Morraine and Baelfire.  She would sacrifice everything for them.  Rumpelstiltskin was still alive for the moment.  She still had time to get the dagger away from Gaston and save her beloved.  She would not allow herself to give in to her fears.  “Don’t worry, Belle.  I’ll be good to you.  You will be my loving wife, and I will make sure the little cretins are treated well.  It’s your choice.”

          Belle stumbled back a step as he released her and moved to pour himself another drink.  She bowed her head, focusing on playing her part.  She’d fooled her father for years.  She could definitely fool this lummox, she thought.  “On one condition will I agree.”

          A wide smile curled his lips as he turned, a hint of gleeful madness flickering in the depths of his dark eyes.  “And what would that be, princess?”

          She hid the steely determination she felt from him, and lifted meek tear-filled eyes to meet his gaze.  “You will allow me to say goodbye to my husband.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *runs to hide from angry mob* There’s only one more chapter and then the epilogue? Maybe? Not sure. Y’all know how long-winded I can be lol. PLEASE review and tell me what you think, even if you want to yell at me and call me names :D I promise I’ll have the next update out as soon as I can.


	26. True Love's Kiss

 

          Rumpelstiltskin rose slowly to his feet as footsteps sounded in the corridor outside his cell.  It rather surprised him to see his new master striding through the door.  The knight could have just as easily summoned the Dark One to him rather than trekking all the way down to the dungeon.  The mage surmised it was probably due to the fact Gaston wanted to see him broken and locked away below the earth, wallowing in his own suffering.  And he was indeed suffering without Belle and the children.  His blackened soul clung to the light they shone on his bleak world.  He watched as two men flanked him, retainers from the looks of them in their blue and brown uniforms.  He raised his hate-filled amber eyes to the blade Gaston held in his right hand.  Oh, what he wouldn’t give to have it in his own hand, to hear bone and flesh give way as the kris slid smoothly into the smug bastard.  He took an unconscious step back as his master stepped forward.

          “Bind him,” he ordered his men, and Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t help but flinch as the retainers dragged him to the center of the room and stripped his dragon-hide coat from his body.  Iron manacles were clapped to his wrists and hoisted high over his head, leaving him to balance on the balls of his feet.

          “You know this isn’t necessary.  I cannot leave after you made it a command to remain,” the mage explained as if he were talking to a wee child.

          The knight circled around his newest prey, a small smirk teasing the corner of his mouth.  “I know,” he sighed.  “Lord Lennox had quite extensive knowledge of the Dark One’s dagger and its uses.  Almost makes me wonder if perhaps he’d once held the demon in thrall, but if he had … why would he give up such power?”

          The spinner scowled at the imp in his mind.  _So, that’s what you were up to at the wedding.  Gah!  I should’ve known._

          The Dark One giggled, waving a hand airily through the bars of his cage.  _What can I say?_ he tittered, _I was bored._

          At the moment, he didn’t care.  He was more concerned for his family.  “What have you done with my wife?  My daughter?  I swear, if you’ve harmed –“

          Gaston stopped before him and backhanded him across the face, the mage’s head swinging to the right with the force of the blow, his ears ringing and a small trickle of blood making its way from the corner of his mouth.  “You’ll do nothing,” the knight chortled.  “You are my slave, beast.  It is no longer your concern what becomes of your _family_.  But I suppose it will be amusing to let you in on my secrets.”

          Rumpelstiltskin shook his head to clear it as Gaston nodded at his retainers.  He felt a moment’s fear as they circled around behind him, cutting his waistcoat and shirt from his body.  He knew the knight wouldn’t be able to quell his need for revenge.  He’d known as soon as the man had entered the cell, a whip hanging from his belt that he wouldn’t escape a lashing at the very least.  “Are they well?”

          The brute looked appalled.  “What kind of man do you take me for?  Of course, they’re well.  The girl will remain so as long as Belle plays her part as my dutiful wife.  Can’t make promises for the boy.  He hasn’t been found yet.  That, however, is just a matter of time.”

          His lips curled back over his teeth in a snarl as the first lash fell upon his naked back, yet he didn’t break his new master’s gaze.  His relief that Baelfire had so far evaded detection made it easy to ignore his discomfort.  “Belle will never love you.  She’s _my_ wife.  You can trot me out to do your bidding all you like, lord it over me that my family’s health and well-being are in your hands, but the fact remains … she will _always_ be mine,” he spat.

          The knight’s eyes narrowed malevolently.  “Are we really going to quibble over details?  She was promised to me first.  The only reason she married you was because of your deal.” He chuckled lowly, leaning in closer as his voice dropped to a taunting whisper.  “I mean … why would she want a beast like you, when she could have me?  It’s not as though she could really love you.  Tell me … is that the only way you could come by a woman?  Through a deal?  Did she scream when you took her that first time?”

          Rumpelstiltskin cast his eyes down to the old straw littered across the floor, a sliver of doubt flickering in his eyes as he listened to the knight spew his bile.  He couldn’t allow Gaston to poison his mind against Belle.  She had been true and genuine in her affections, and though she never admitted her love, it made it no less real.  She just needed time – something they were quickly running out of – to come to terms with what was in her heart.

          “But don’t fret.  You won’t be around to see her revel in her new life.  I won’t have you lurking about to remind her of her time with you.  Once she’s my bride, she’ll forget all about the beast she sacrificed herself to in order to save her kingdom.”

          Rumpelstiltskin’s stomach churned with dread.  “What do you mean?” he gasped, wondering how much longer he’d be able to bear the lash upon his torn flesh.

          “Did you really think I would be satisfied with controlling the Dark One?  Oh, no … I will _be_ the Dark One.”

          Gaston nodded to his retainers and they followed him from the room, leaving the imp to dwell in his misery.  Rumpelstiltskin let his chin drop to his chest, ignoring the burning pain in his back as he let his thoughts drift to his beloved.  Tears, he’d refused to shed before his new master, coursed hotly over his cheeks.  His children had wished to break his curse, but somehow, he was certain this wasn’t what they’d had in mind.  At least his Belle would care for them.  Somehow, she would protect them from the darkness.  He wept for what could have been and for what had already passed between him and the princess.  Gods, how he loved her.  He’d had nearly four months with her … four months of a happiness he hadn’t known was possible.

          There was nothing he could do to prevent his death, not when Gaston possessed the dagger.  Yet, if he was to die, he would die with her name on his lips, loving her with his last breath.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          Belle glared at the servant who showed her to the room which had been prepared for her.  She knew it wasn’t the girl’s fault, but she wasn’t in a charitable mood.  The door was locked behind her, and she scowled as she turned to survey her surroundings.  The room was a bit of a mess thanks to her daughter.  She gaped at Morraine, who paid her no heed as she stood in the center of the large bed trying her best to pry a large decorative shield and sword from the wall above it.

          “Don’t just stand there, Mama,” the girl pleaded, “climb up here and help me.”

          Belle inched closer to the bed.  “And what do you propose to do with that once you get it down?”

          Morraine’s eyes flashed with determination.  “I’m going to run it through that bounder’s black heart!” she hissed furiously.  “He’s not going to be allowed to do this to my papa.”

          Belle reached out and caught Morraine’s hand, tugging her down to the mattress.  She wrapped her daughter in a warm embrace and pressed a kiss to her brow.  “Well, it’s good to see you’ve gotten over your fright.”

          The girl shook her head dejectedly.  “No, I’m just channeling it in a different way.”  She brushed angry tears where they burned the corners of her eyes.  “I’m so mad right now, I could just spit, but Papa says it’s unladylike.”  Her lip trembled as she looked up at her mother.  “I need Bae.”

          “I know, sweetling.  I do too, though it’s probably better if he’s roaming the keep instead of locked up with us.”  _And far away from Gaston,_ she added silently.  The knight would surely want to seek retribution for the lovely black eye her son had given him.

          A ring of keys jingled loudly on the other side of the door which had them both tensing, but it was simply another servant with a dinner tray.  “Where would you have me put this, m’lady?” the maid asked, offering Belle a tremulous smile.

          Belle rose from the bed to direct her when another servant bearing a tea tray entered the room.  At least Gaston wasn’t planning to starve them out.  She turned her back to the open door and moved to the table in the corner, lifting the lids to peruse the dishes.  Her stomach roiled with nerves, and she quickly replaced the cover.  The servants didn’t tarry, but made haste to the door, locking it behind them.  Belle’s brow knitted as she returned to her daughter to find her grinning like a loon.  “And just what has you so jovial, my darling?  In light of our current mess, it’s unwarranted.”

          A hand snaked out from under the bed and grabbed her ankle, and her shriek could probably be heard all the way out to the bailey.  Her gaze shot down to the floor to see her son’s head peeking out from under the bed.  “Jeez, Mama!  You want to let everyone know I’m here?” the boy snarked, grinning unrepentantly.

          “Baelfire!” she croaked, pressing a hand to her heart in her fright.  “How did you get in here?”

          “He slipped in after the servants while they were distracted by you,” Morraine said, helping her brother to his feet and pulling him into a hug.  She then smacked him in the back of his head.  “What were you thinking, ducking out with Papa like that?!  You scared me to death.  Don’t ever do that again, Baelfire.  You won’t like the consequences.”

          Belle was sure when she thought back on this day she would get a good chuckle over Morraine’s upset, but now was not the time.  “Bae, have you seen your father since you arrived?  Is he well?” she asked, desperate for news of her husband.

          Bae stopped scowling at his sister to shake his head sadly at his mother.  “He was alright when I left him, but that was hours ago.  There’s no telling what that fiend might have done to him since.  We’ve got to get him out of there, Mama.”

          “That’s easier said than done, my darlings.  Gaston has the dagger.  If he wished, he could make your papa kill us all and Rumpelstiltskin would be helpless to resist the command.”

          Baelfire pulled the blade his father had given him from the pocket of his coat.  “Papa gave me this.”  He pressed it into his mother’s hand.  “Hide it, Mama.  Use it.  From what I’ve seen, his servants don’t hold any great love for their master.  If the knight was dead, it would be easy to free Papa from the dungeon and flee this place.”

          Morraine ducked her head, her little brow creased with deep concentration.  “He’ll still be cursed, though.  This could easily happen again.”

          Various groans echoed throughout the chamber, and Belle felt a deep unease sitting there plotting murder with the help of her children.

          Baelfire stared at Belle thoughtfully.  “Mama?”

          “Yes, darling?” she queried distractedly, curling a loose thread from the duvet about her finger as she tried to think of a solution to their current predicament.

          “Do you love Papa?”

          Belle look at both of her children and nodded, tears brightening her cerulean eyes.  She nodded.  “More than anything in the wide world.  I didn’t realize until today before Gaston showed up at the gates.”

          Her son whooped and then covered his mouth with both hands.  Morraine’s eyes grew wide and hopeful.  “Oh, Mama, don’t you see?  True love’s kiss can break his curse.  All you have to do is kiss him and then Gaston wouldn’t be able to control him any longer.”

          Baelfire groaned as his face fell.  “But that won’t guarantee his freedom, ‘Raine.  He’ll still be locked in the dungeon, and without his magic.”

          It was Belle’s turn to get excited as she pulled them closer, needing to feel them in her arms to draw on their strength and bolster her own.  “Not necessarily.  Not long after your father and I wed, he let me read this book from the restricted section.  Do you remember?”

          Morraine nodded.  “Yes!  That was one you wouldn’t share with us.”

          “In that book,” Belle continued, her voice low in case her former betrothed had set spies to listen at the door, “it stated any being touched by magic, will always possess the capability for magic whether he be born into it, cursed, and so on.  Your father _will_ retain his power even if the curse is broken.”

          Morraine shared a look with her brother.  “Oh, that lummox is in trouble.”

          “What if he won’t allow you to see Papa?” Baelfire asked, afraid to get his hopes up that their plan would work.

          “I’ve already gotten his promise to take me to see Rumpelstiltskin tonight.  In fact, he should be here soon.”

          Bae didn’t like the worry he could hear so clearly in her voice.  “What aren’t you telling us, Mama?”

          “Don’t worry about that, my darlings.”  She couldn’t bear to tell them what would happen if she somehow failed.  “I will not fail my husband.  He’s always been there for us, protecting us, loving us.  Even cursed, he’s tried so hard to be a good man.  He saved me from ogres, an unwanted betrothal, even my own father and a title I never wanted.  Now it’s time for me to save him.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          Belle’s heart leapt with fear as she heard the footsteps approaching their door.  She pulled her children closer, whispering urgently.  “Remember what we talked about.  Get yourselves out and go south to Avonlea.  Stay to the forest, and do not let yourselves be seen.  If all goes well, Rumpelstiltskin and I will find you.”  She removed what few coins she had in her pocket and pressed them into Morraine’s hand.  “Take this … just in case.”

          She shoved Baelfire down to the floor so he could crawl back under the bed.  It was imperative he not be caught in her room.  Morraine hugged her mother.  “Mama, what if –“

          “Don’t think that way, darling.  Just make your way to my father.  He will help you.  Explain to him what has happened and he will shelter you.  He’s a good man deep down, and will wish to lend his aid,” Belle said with a confidence she was far from feeling.  Her grip tightened on her daughter as the lock clicked and the door swung open on its creaky hinges.

          Gaston clapped his hands eagerly as he took her in, his eyes gleaming with excitement.  “Ah, my sweet!” he breathed, taking her hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles.  Belle was quick to snatch it back.  He didn’t let it worry him.  Soon enough, she would learn to appreciate his advances.  “Well, let’s have done with this nonsense so we can move on to bigger and better things.”

          Belle fisted her hands in her voluminous skirts and preceded him out the door, ignoring his proffered arm. She didn't think she could bear to touch him. She didn't look back at Morraine, knowing the worry she'd see there would be her undoing.   He fell into step behind her, taking her elbow in a firm grip. Her eyes caught the gleam of the dagger wedged into his belt, and she wondered if she could somehow snatch it away from him.

          Gaston chuckled lowly, taking the dagger in hand. “Is this what you want, my dear?” he taunted. “What would you give me in return?”

          Belle shot him a heated look as they began to descend into the bowels of the keep. “As if you would give it to me,” she sneered. “I’m not some silly twit, Gaston. Play your games with one of the court maids who relish in fawning over you for your handsome face.”

          He paused as they reached the corridor leading to Rumpelstiltskin’s cell. “You think I’m handsome?” he asked, sending a wolfish grin her way.

          Belle rolled her eyes. Leave it to him to focus on the most irrelevant part of her statement. “No, Gaston, I find you quite repulsive. Have you forgotten?  I have seen the real you.”

          Gaston wrapped his large hand around her delicate throat and pushed her back against the wall, disappointed when she hid her fear from him. Her nails dug into his wrist as she fought for her release, but his wounded pride would be appeased. “Don't toy with me, princess. You will come to accept me as your husband whether you like it or not. When I take you to my bed, you’ll forget all about that beast rutting between your legs. It will be _my_ touch you crave, _my_ name on your lips as you reach your peak.”

          Her lip curled in disgust as her eyes narrowed venomously. “I suppose I can now add delusional to your list of bad personality traits. I will _never_ want you, Gaston. I didn't before, and I certainly don't now, when I know what it is like to be loved by a real man!”

          A startled cry burst past her lips as her cheek exploded with pain, her knees buckling under the force of the blow.  Her eyes shot icy blue daggers of pure hatred at her tormentor, pushing his hand away as he tried to help her to her feet, his face contrite.

          “I’m sorry, Belle, but I cannot allow you to speak to me in such a way.”

          Her hand rose to her cheek where he’d slapped her, a bitter laugh echoing against the stone walls.  “I will take comfort in knowing he will kill you slowly for this.”

          Gaston smirked.  “Now who’s being delusional?” he asked gesturing her ahead of him towards Rumpelstiltskin’s cell.  “And a little bloodthirsty.  Who would have thought?”

          The retainers, standing guard on either side of the door, stood aside to allow them entry and Belle felt her heart quicken at the thought of being reunited with her husband.  She covered her mouth in horror, however, when she caught her first glimpse of him.

          “Oh, Rumpel!” she cried, taking a step towards him.  That cry turned to one of outrage when Gaston wrapped an arm about her waist and yanked her back into his chest.

          “Belle …” Rumpelstiltskin’s tortured amber gaze swept over his wife, his nostrils flaring with barely constrained rage as he took in the darkening bruise on her lovely face.  The Dark One snarled as well, seeing the girl with a mark on her. She was not meant for the knight, but for him … for _his_ pleasure once he gained control over his new host.

          Gaston’s lips curled up into a smile of smug satisfaction as he pulled the dagger from his belt and held it to Belle’s throat, enjoying the flicker of fear he witnessed in the imp’s eyes.  “Say your goodbyes, Belle.  And make sure you tell him of our compromise,” he chortled.

          “Leave us!” she hissed, tears washing over her ashen cheeks as she struggled against his restraining arm.  “I will not have you belittling what I have to say to him.”

          “You wish to deprive me of my fun,” he drawled petulantly, tsking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.  “Yet, I suppose I can grant your request.  The Dark One is bound to this room, and there’s little hope of you releasing him from his chains.  But what will you grant me in return?”

          Belle glared at him over her shoulder.  “I promise not to stab you in your sleep!”

          “Oh, I do love a woman with fire,” he chortled.  “Very well, m’dear.  I will give you a quarter of an hour to say your goodbyes.  Then you will be escorted to my study where I will await your presence.”  He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear as his gaze flickered up to the imp.  “We have so much catching up to do.”

          Rumpelstiltskin strained against his bonds, wishing nothing more than to rip the knight’s heart from his chest and crush it before his eyes as he lay dying.  But even that would be too merciful for the fiend.  It was a testament to his desperation that he allowed the Dark One to whisper in his ear of tortures fitting for the man who’d dare lay a harmful hand on their princess.  His body continued to reach out for her, his need to have her touch him overwhelming.  He needed her touch to soothe him, comfort him and bring him blessed relief.  He needed to know she cared, to have her love wrap around him and wing him towards his final rest.

          She waited until she could no longer hear Gaston’s footsteps in the corridor, and still she went to the barred window in the door to make sure he was long gone before going to her husband.  “Oh, Rumpel, what has he done to you?” she wept, her lower lip trembling.

          “It doesn’t matter, pet.  Shh … don’t cry for me,” he whispered soothingly as he dipped his head to press his brow to hers.  “Don’t weep, my love … please.”

          “I did this!” she sobbed.  “I let him have your dagger.”

          He shook his head.  “No … no, Belle.  Bae told me you had no choice.”

          “If I –“

          His nose nuzzled hers, reveling in her warmth one last time.  “Listen to me, pet.  I need you to do something for me.  Morraine … she needs you so much.  Bae is stubborn, and will no doubt give you more trouble than you can handle.  Don’t let him seek revenge.  Watch over them for me.”

          “Rumpel –“

          The mage cut her off again, needing to use the time allotted to unburden his soul to her.  “I love you, my Belle.  You could have refused the deal … I still would have found a way to help you.  I was lost the moment I set eyes on you, sweetheart.  But to know you, to love you,” his voice broke and it took everything in him to gather his wits.  “That was the greatest gift of my worthless life.  I would give _anything_ to be with you just one more day.”

          Belle wept brokenly, her heart taking flight at his profession of love.  Her hands fluttered against his shoulders as she touched him gingerly, afraid she would add to his pain.  Her thumbs gently stroked over the pulse points beneath his jaw, and a fleeting smile graced her lips.  “A kiss?” she whispered.  “Do you really love me, husband?  Because a kiss could save us all.”

          He gasped, not allowing himself to hope despite her words.  “What do you mean, pet?”

          “I love you with my whole heart, Rumpelstiltskin.  I’m just so sorry it took me so long to realize what I was feeling was love.”

          Tears spilled over his lashes to mingle with hers as she brought his lips to hers, a gentle sipping kiss of the likes they’d shared so often.  But so different … this one brush of skin upon skin crackling with the most powerful magic of all.  True love.

          Belle clung to him as the Dark One shrieked in fear, losing his tenuous hold on the spinner.  Centuries of darkness fled his body, and he was free, his heart light and his soul unburdened at last.  She pulled away from him and watched spellbound as his beautiful green gold flesh morphed into the light tan he’d worn from so many days toiling with his sheep for their wool.  His hair lost its curl, and his warm amber eyes, so filled with love transformed into a rich deep sable much like their son’s.

          She caught him as he slumped weakly against the chains.  “Rumpel!  Rumpel, please … say something!” she hissed worriedly.

          “Love you, pet.”

          “Besides that,” she chuckled.  “How are you feeling?”

          “Free,” he murmured, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth up into the half-moon grin she loved so much.

          She huffed a sigh of relief.  “Good, now free yourself so we can be gone from this place.”

          Rumpelstiltskin arched a skeptical brow at her.  “And how do you propose I do that?”

          Belle kissed him again, her smile radiant when she pulled away.  “Look inside yourself, darling, and draw on your power.  It hasn’t left you.”

          “How do you know –“ And then he felt it, the power which had been so much a part of him when he’d been cursed.  It was there, waiting to be called upon.  It was much more pliant as he didn’t have to fight the Dark One for every spell or incantation.  It was his to command now, freely and unreservedly.  With a thought, the manacles fell away from his bruised and bloodied wrists and he was thankful Belle was there to steady him.  His wounds healed and his determination was renewed.

          “It will take some getting used to, yes?”

          “I think I can manage,” he replied, his teeth curling back into a snarl as he looked towards the door.  “Where are the children?”

          Belle laid her head against his shoulder as his arms coiled around her, bringing her flush with his body.  “I sent them away from the keep to search out my father in Avonlea.  They should be well away by now, waiting for us to join them.”

          “Go to them now,” he commanded gently.

          “What of you?  I don’t want to leave you, Rum,” she protested.

          He caught her lips in a lingering kiss, smiling darkly as he pulled away.  “I will be along shortly, pet, but first I have a certain knight to deal with.  He needs to know I will not allow _anyone_ to harm my family and live to tell the tale.”

 

 

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I edited this in a hurry, so bear with me if you find any typos. I’ll have you know I lost a little piece of my soul to this chapter. Please let me know if you liked it or hated it or if it was meh. Next chapter will be Rumpel’s confrontation with Gaston and then a happy reunion with the children. I hope to have it up sometime next week :D Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. *hugs and love*


	27. A Dish Best Served Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Rumpel’s revenge against Gaston gets pretty nasty. That’s in section two if you want to skip over it.

 

          Belle arched an appreciative brow as she took in the black silk shirt and matching brocade waistcoat her husband had summoned.  He’d refused to face Gaston at less than his best.  Even without his curse, he cut a dashing figure.  She almost felt sorry for her former betrothed, but got over it rather quickly when she remembered the threats he’d made to her children.  His treatment of her beloved husband brought on a whole new level of rage.

          “Do you think your father might have been privy to Gaston’s plans?  He had the king’s traveling coach, after all.”

          She shook her head, looping her arms around her husband’s neck and pressing herself flush with his body.  “Papa and Gaston are quite close, but he wouldn’t have gone along with this heinous plan if I were to be caught in the middle.  He was genuine in his apology at the wedding, Rumpel.  He wants another chance to be a part of my life.  With Gaston’s status in Papa’s court, he could have easily borrowed the coach.”

          Rumpelstiltskin was wary of others by nature.  His life had been filled with pain, the kind which makes one think they’ll never be worthy of anything good, the kind which leaves one mentally broken and searching for some purpose to continue on.  Belle and the children were the best things to ever happen to him, and he would fight to protect them, even from her father if he suspected the man of plotting with the knight.

          Belle leaned up, distracting him with a sweet kiss.  His lips parted on a silent gasp, and her tongue slipped inside to explore at her leisure.  Adrenaline still coursed through her, leaving her jittery.  “I almost lost you,” she breathed, nipping lightly at her lower lip.

          “Shh, my love.  Don’t think on it,” came his reply as he trailed hot open-mouthed kisses over the line of her jaw, sucking gently at the spot beneath her jaw where her pulse pounded furiously.  “We’re together, pet, and nothing will come between us again.”

          She dragged his lips back to hers as she trailed her nails over his hips and along his leather-clad thighs before cupping his burgeoning arousal. 

          Rumpelstiltskin hissed, his head falling back against the stone wall she’d somehow pressed him to.  “Pet, stop!”

          Belle whimpered softly, her tongue mapping a wet path over his collarbone.  “But –“

          He cradled her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.  “Belle, I cannot go off to battle that fiend with a raging erection!”

          She bit her lip to stifle a giggle.  “You know I read somewhere bloodlust can cause a man to … um …” she mumbled, waving a hand at his groin.

          Rumpelstiltskin groaned.  “I need to curtail the time you spend in the library.”

          “Pfft,” she scoffed.  “As if you care what I read as long as you can stretch out on the settee with me, Rumpelstiltskin.  You’re becoming just as spoiled as I am.”

          He kissed her silent once more before the time allotted them was nearly over.  He twined her fingers with his, however, reluctant to see her go.  “Belle, you need to go.  Find our children.”  His jaw tightened as he averted his gaze.  “I will not allow you to bear witness to the knight’s punishment.”

          She nodded, fighting back the panic curling about her heart.  She had to remain strong.  “I think you should also retrieve the dagger.”

          “Why?  You broke my curse, pet.  We no longer need the dagger.”

          Belle shrugged, taking in his puzzled frown.  “But where did the darkness go, Rumpel?  It is an immortal entity.  When it left you, where did it go?  Did it return to the dagger?”

          “I suppose it’s possible.”

          “And if some unsuspecting soul finds it … uses it as they would an ordinary blade in battle …”

          “Whomever is pierced with it will become the new Dark One and our problems will begin again.  Gods!” he spat in disgust.  He could just imagine the havoc the demon would wreak upon the realms.  And his first stop would be the Dark Castle.  Leave it to his brilliant little wife to think of such a thing.  “I can’t let that happen, pet.  Worry not; I won’t leave here without it.”

         

X*X*X*X*X

 

          Belle stared down at the large salamanders as they skittered away into the shadowy recesses of the corridor, the new form her husband had chosen for the guards who’d lashed him.  At least he hadn’t killed them outright.  He’d retrieved a short sword from one of them and pressed it into her hands with the warning not to hesitate to use it if she were detained by more of Gaston’s men.  The children came first.

          “Please, Belle,” he whispered, his hands cradling her face in his warm palms, “be careful.  If anything were to happen to you …”

          He couldn’t finish, and she didn’t know if she could bear it if he had.  She was frightened of what he would do once she left him alone to find Bae and Morraine.  “I will,” she vowed.  “Rumpel, I know what you have to do, but –“

          The former Dark One didn’t give her a chance to finish, but magically transported her to their children.  They hadn’t gone far, the call of his blood, his son a beacon to lead him to them.  Things were tenuous, and Rumpelstiltskin needed to know his family was safe.  He couldn’t focus on the gruesome task at hand if his concentration were shifted elsewhere.

          The magic coursing through his veins bolstered his courage as he began to make his way down the corridor to seek out the fiend who’d thought to tear their family apart.  It was strange being alone in his head, the demon he’d lived with for so long finally silenced.  It was freeing, giving him the opportunity to listen to his heart as it spoke to him.  But in a way, it was terrifying.  It made him see there was a darkness in him which remained, a need to avenge his family and their suffering which could not be quelled.  His Belle feared for him, of what he could become if he allowed the darkness to claim him.  She didn’t want to see his vengeance blacken his heart or corrupt his soul.  He vowed to himself he would do better, to be a man worthy of her love.  But he could not allow the knight to hurt another … never again.

          Rumpelstiltskin pressed his back against the wall, keeping to the shadows outside Gaston’s sanctuary.  A faint trace of Morraine’s fear lingered in the air, and it fueled his rage.  He could hear servants in different parts of the keep, scurrying about like frightened mice, discontent rampant among the lot of them.  It seemed he hadn’t been the only soul wronged by the knight who would be king.  If he delved deeper, his magic certainly willing, he was sure to find the cause of their ill feelings towards their master, but he was anxious to be done, to return to his family.

          Easing the door open, he slipped inside, thankful the hinges had been silent so as not to betray his presence.  Though Gaston was no match for his power, Rumpelstiltskin wished for the element of surprise, and the chance to observe his enemy.  The mage’s magic flowed through him, awaiting his bidding, a blissful balm to the tempest of his mind.  It was nothing short of miraculous to have retained his power, moreso that it answered his call so readily without the demon there to guide it.  It seemed the Dark One had hidden a great wealth of knowledge from him indeed.

          His lip curled back into a snarl of disgust as he edged further into the room.  He ignored the small squeal from the young woman sprawled over the knight’s lap, her face pinched with pain.  She clearly didn’t welcome her master’s lustful attentions.  Rumpelstiltskin gnashed his teeth, seeing firsthand what Belle’s fate would have been.  It made his stomach roil with revulsion.  He didn’t think he could stand much more.

          Rumpelstiltskin tsked his tongue as he stepped out of the shadows, drawing Gaston’s stunned gaze.  “Enough of that, dearie; we’ve business to discuss.”  He grabbed a threadbare throw from the back of a chair and tossed it in the girl’s direction.  “Run along, little one.  Your master and I are busy.”

          She didn’t hesitate to take the out, scurrying quickly from the room.

          Gaston’s eyes narrowed on the mage, retrieving the dagger from his belt.  “I didn’t give you permission to leave the dungeon, beast,” he snapped, rising to his feet.

          Rumpelstiltskin chortled gleefully.  “Oh, you’ll find I don’t need it anymore.”

          The knight suffered a moment’s indecision, confused.  “Kneel, beast.  Kneel before you master while I have Belle brought here to witness your destruction.”

          All traces of amusement fled the mage’s face as he pinned the man to the wall with his magic beneath one of Gaston’s prized boar heads.  “Change of plans, dearie,” he sneered.  “Look at the kris.”  He yanked it out of the knight’s hands and held it before his face.

          “N0!” he gasped, his hands clutching at his throat as he gasped for breath.  “You’re slave t-to the d-dagger.”

          “ _Was_ … past tense.  Do try to keep up.”  Rumpelstiltskin’s arm shot out, the enchanted blade disappearing into the ether as he sent it back to the Dark Castle and well out of the man’s reach.

          “How?” Gaston continued to gasp.  His lips were taking on a slight tinge of blue.

          Rumpelstiltskin crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side, enjoying the show.  “True love’s kiss,” he said simply.  “My Belle and I share true love … something your small mind would never be able to understand.  She needed a gentle hand, understanding and compassion in order to flourish and find herself.  To learn to love.”  He eased up the slightest bit on the magic around Gaston’s throat and stepped forward, seizing his right hand.  The same hand with which he’d struck the princess.  The fiend howled as Rumpelstiltskin snapped his thumb at the joint.  “You would have crushed her!  Her spirit!  Her body!”  With each snarling utterance, he broke another finger, the sound easing away some of the pain in the mage’s soul.

          “She’s –“

          “MINE!” Rumpelstiltskin roared, cutting him off as he moved on to the other hand.  “You dared take my _wife_ … my _children_ … from me?!  ME?!  The darkest sorcerer in all the realms?  Did you think there would be no consequences?”

          Oh, how easy it would be to tear the flesh from the brute’s bones with his magic, to be done with it, but he couldn’t banish the despair he’d seen in Bae’s eyes, nor could he dispel the desolation on Belle’s lovely features or the fear his daughter had felt clutching her heart.  He retrieved a small silver dagger from the wall of weapons he spied behind the man’s desk, testing the weight in his hands.  He closed his eyes briefly as the knight’s cries of agony rang in the room, reveling in the sound.  It was easy to recall some of the demon’s memories of torture.  He’d flaunted them before the spinner countless times.  Now he would put them to good use.  He would use them to rid the realm of true evil.

          Gaston’s head slumped forward, his chin resting against his chest.  Rumpelstiltskin grasped a handful and yanked him upright.  He groaned.  “Oh, dearie, don’t give out on me now!  We’ve barely begun,” he tittered, resuming the role he’d played for so long.  He reveled in the man’s outcry as he applied pressure to his broken fingers.  Dark fearful eyes locked onto the dagger as it was pressed to his wrist.  The mage was slow and methodical as he dug in with the tip until it pierced the vein, opening it.  He did the same to the other wrist until a steady drip could be heard on the hardwood well beneath his feet.

          “Just end me already,” the knight wailed.

          “Pfft!  Show a bit of character.  You’re a bloody knight of the realm!” Rumpelstiltskin scoffed.  “Would you have ended my beloved’s suffering or shown mercy to my children?  I think not!”  He dug the point into the fiend’s neck, pricking the vein there as well.  His vision was a haze of red as Gaston’s life’s blood stained his tunic.  He was quickly losing the battle with his restraint as his yearning for vengeance grew.  “Would you have spared my Belle your vile touch when her aversion to pain is common knowledge?”  He pressed the dagger to the knight’s groin, holding his gaze as he slid the sharp blade through his flesh.

          The sounds emitting from the man were inhuman, testament to his agony, and Rumpelstiltskin’s lips curved into the semblance of a sinister smile.  He twisted the knife.  “For my Belle!” he hissed. Another twist.  “For my son!”  He thrust forward, burying the dagger to the hilt, the point wedging into the wall behind the knight.  “For my daughter!  For the tortures you would have visited upon them, may you rot in the pit of Tartarus where you will know true suffering.  May the carrion feast upon your flesh and have you curse the moment you chose to steal from me.”

          Rumpelstiltskin backed away and watched as Gaston bled out.  His long spinner’s fingers were coated in blood, his thirst appeased.  He drew in a deep calming breath, the red haze easing from his vision.  The knight would never harm another soul in this world or the next.  His family was safe, and he could spend the rest of his life without this threat hanging over them.  They would heal from this ordeal … together.

          He left the fiend hanging on the wall and magicked himself away, leaving a mess for Gaston’s servants to clean up behind him.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          “I should’ve known the two of you wouldn’t have gone far,” Belle hissed sternly, pulling the children behind a flowering shrub just outside of the gates leading onto Gaston’s modest property.  She hugged them tightly to her when she was sure they couldn’t be seen by anyone on the walls.  “And I’m so glad.”

          “Are you alright, Mama?” Baelfire asked, unconcerned for his mother’s ire at the moment.  He was much more interested in her welfare.  “What happened after that buffoon took you away?”

          Morraine shot him a quelling look, filled with her own questions.  “Did he hurt you, Mama?  Did you see Papa?  Did you kiss him?”

          “Did the kiss work?”

          “How’d you get away?”

          “Where’s Papa now?”

          “Children!” Belle hissed, trying to shush them.  “Everything will be well.  Your father is free from the dungeon and was on his way to deal with Gaston when he magicked me outside the gates.”

          Baelfire hung his head.  “You mean he went to kill him.”

          Morraine wrapped an arm around his shoulders.  “We don’t know what he’ll do to him.”

          “C’mon, ‘Raine!  You remember what happened last time we were kidnapped,” her brother vented quietly, not wanting to draw attention.  “He promised …” His voice broke beneath the weight of his churning emotions.  “He swore to us he wouldn’t kill again.  And I don’t see how he can avoid it this time.  Look what that lummox did to Mama.  You think Papa’s gonna let that stand?!”

          Belle cradled him in her arms, tucking his head beneath her chin as she carded her fingers through his unruly curls.  “Shh, Bae,” she crooned gently.  “Rumpel is only going to do what needs to be done to protect you … all of us.  If we escape Gaston, what’s to say he wouldn’t try to harm us again?  Or how would you feel if he hurt someone else?  Your father takes his duty to his family very seriously.”

          Baelfire sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.  “I don’t want to lose him to the darkness, Mama,” he cried softly.

          “You won’t, my boy,” the mage murmured as he appeared before them in a wisp of gray smoke, holding his arms open for his children.

          Twin sets of sable eyes widened in astonishment as they took in their father free of his curse.  “Papa!” they chorused, throwing themselves into his embrace.

          Morraine cradled Rumpelstiltskin’s face in her hands.  “The curse is gone?  Mama’s kiss worked?”

          “Yes, sweetling.  The demon is gone,” he assured her.  “It’s just me.”

          Baelfire looked doubtful.  “But you have magic.  How is that possible?”

          Belle knelt between the children and smiled.  “Because once you possess magic, it never leaves you.  Rumpel has a fresh start to bend his power to his will, to use it for good or evil.  It is his choice,” she explained.

          “And you know I will use it for good, my little dearies.  I’ve been given a second chance, and I will not squander it.”

          Morraine nestled further against her father’s chest, seeking comfort only he could give as her parent.  “I know you will, Papa.  You’re a good man … even when you were cursed, the demon couldn’t change that.”

          Baelfire grinned.  “It’s good to have you back, Papa, but can we go home now?  I’m starving!”

          Morraine rolled her eyes.  “When aren’t you hungry?”

          Rumpelstiltskin gathered his family close.  “We shall feast tonight, and celebrate being free of the curse.”

          “And a long and happy future for our family,” Belle added, her joyous laughter ringing behind them as her husband swept them through the void.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          “Gah!” Rumpelstiltskin groaned as he perused his reflection in the full-length mirror in their bedroom.  “I look bloody awful.  Have I always looked this old?” he asked, tossing the question over his shoulder where his wife was just now emerging from the bathing chamber.

          Belle stopped her progress into the room and moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back.  “You don’t look old, darling.  You’re just not used to seeing yourself without all that lovely green-gold skin.  I’m sure once you’ve acclimated yourself again, you won’t think so.”

          He snorted.  “You’re the only person aside from my children who never minded what the curse did to my appearance.”

          She pressed a kiss to his shoulder before taking his hand and leading him to the bed.  After a raid on the pantry and a picnic-style supper spread out in front of the hearth in the Great Hall, the children had gratefully sought their beds with no fuss.  Now, she had her husband all to herself and she could feel her nerves humming loudly beneath her skin.  “From the beginning, I knew how special you were, Rumpel.”

          Rumpelstiltskin crawled upon the bed and pulled her into his side as he laid back upon the mountain of pillows piled against the headboard.  “You’re not … um … disappointed?  With how I look now?”

          Belle arched a brow.  “Darling, of course not!  You’re just as attractive to me now as you were when you were cursed.”  She teased her fingers through the lightly graying hair at his temples and pulled him down for a sweet kiss.  “You’re mine, Rumpelstiltskin.  I love you no matter what.”  His arms tightened about her and she felt her heart swell.  “I never knew true happiness until you, my husband.”

          “I love you too, my Belle.  I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn’t know if you were ready to hear it.  I didn’t even know if you _could_ love me, cursed as I was,” he lamented.

          She pressed her brow to his, her nose nuzzling alongside his own.  “I think I’ve loved you all along, I just didn’t know it.  Love was never a big part of my life, Rum.  I yearned for it, longed to have it one day much like the heroines in my books.  Yet, I couldn’t recognize it when I finally found it.  It wasn’t until you’d left me two mornings ago, before everything fell apart.”

          “No matter, pet.  You love me now.  I couldn’t ask for a greater gift.”

          Belle bit her lip anxiously as she raised up on an elbow to stare down into his gentle gaze.  “Is there nothing more I could give you, husband?  To match the gift of my love?”

          Rumpelstiltskin frowned at her in bewilderment, taking in the flush on her cheeks and the anxiety in her gaze.  “Belle, you mean everything to me.  You and the children are my whole world.  What more could I ask for?”

          She swallowed thickly.  “How about a baby?”

          “You want to have babies with me?” he breathed, his chest tightening as his heart fluttered.  Visions of a tiny little version of Belle with her silky chestnut hair and his own sable eyes danced in his head.

          “We … um …” she stammered.  “We might not have a choice.  I think I’m pregnant.”

          “What?!  Are you sure?  Is that why you’ve been ill?” he fired off questions at her.

          “I don’t know!  I need you to check,” she wailed, tears filling her eyes.

          “Me?!”

          “Well, can’t you just …” she wiggled her fingers, “… use your magic?”

          His fingers rubbed nervously against his thumb.  “I suppose it’s possible.  Lie back, dearest, and I’ll … ah … have a look … or something.  I’ve never been asked to do this before.”

          Belle nodded and raised her gown to bare her belly to him.  He met her gaze briefly before laying his hand flat against her skin just below her navel.  Closing his eyes, he focused his senses, his magic, into his palm, searching for some sign of life.  Tears sprang to his eyes at the tiny flutter of a heartbeat, swift as hummingbird wings.  She rested her hand over his and sucked in a sharp breath.  “I am, aren’t I?”

          “Oh, Belle …” he whispered reverently, pressing his lips to her belly where their child rested.  “We’re having a baby.”

          Tears washed over her ashen cheeks as she carded her fingers through his hair.  “Please, Rumpel … please tell me this is what you want.  I know we have Bae and Morraine, but surely you have enough love in your heart for another, yes?”

          Rumpelstiltskin stared at her aghast.  “When you say things like this, dear one, it makes me question – and not for the first time – what sort of men populate your kingdom,” he growled.  “Of course, I want this baby.  This is _our_ child, borne of our _love_ , Belle, and I will love it just as much as I do our other children.  Put your fears to rest, and don’t speak of them again.”

          Belle smiled sheepishly as he wiped away her tears.  “We never talked about having more children, darling.  I’m sorry, but I had to ask.”

          “Bae and Morraine are going to be ecstatic,” he giggled, pulling her onto his lap.

          Her hands snaked up beneath his shirt, mapping his skin with the pads of her fingers, steadily moving it upwards until she could pull it over his head.  “I hope so,” she murmured against his lips.  “I want them to be as happy as I feel right now.”

          “They will, my love.  You may depend upon it.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: Just the epilogue left, my darlings!!! I’m so excited! Please let me know what you think. I have another project in the works thanks to my darling friend kindleheartzyou but it won’t be up for a while. Thank you all so much for reading! *hugs*


	28. Happily Ever After

 

**Four years later** **…**

          “Darling, you’re going to dislocate your neck if you don’t stop doing that,” Belle chided gently as her husband whirled her about the parquet floor.  “The children are fine.”  It was only the fourth time she’d had to remind him since she’d convinced him to stop hovering over them and take her out for a turn on the dance floor.

          So many things had changed for them over the years where Rumpelstiltskin’s desperate need to watch over his family had not.  Having retained his magic after the curse had been broken had been a great boon.  He’d feared without his Dark One persona, the enemies he’d made would crawl out of the woodwork to seek revenge against him and his loved ones.  However, he was still fearsome in his own right, and they were left in peace.  Their village was thriving now, having more time to pay attention to the little things.  The citizens of their small town found him more accessible to bring their troubles, and he was quick to work with the mayor to resolve them.  It was growing, and soon their market would rival Longborne.

          Belle and the children had finally convinced Rumpelstiltskin to open an apothecary shop.  It soothed the mage to piddle in his workshop with his many brews and potions, and once a week they were boxed up and brought down to the little shop for sale to the public.  Dire cases of illness were brought directly to their door at the Dark Castle where her beloved would treat them immediately.  Between his spinning and his brewing for the shop, his days were filled with busy rewarding work.  It fulfilled him, and for that Belle was grateful.  There was nothing worse than an idle sorcerer as he tended to find mischief when he was bored.

          Morraine spent most of her days at his side, learning magic and the art of potion-making, wanting to follow in her father’s footsteps.  She was quite a skilled business woman at eighteen now, and was proud to see to the everyday running of their apothecary.  Baelfire, on the other hand, worried her to no end.  As things had continued to improve between Belle and her father, her son had decided he wanted to be a knight.  He was filled with visions of how a proper knight of the realm should conduct himself.  Seeing Gaston abuse his power and title had left lasting effects on Bae.  Upon Rumpel as well, but it was something neither of them would ever speak of.  Some things were best left in the past.

          Maurice was more than thrilled to take Baelfire under his wing and see the boy’s dream fulfilled.  It warmed Belle’s heart to see the bond they forged between them.  Nothing was more important to her than her little family.  Though it wasn’t quite so little anymore.  She couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she watched three-year-old Morna run circles around her big brother where they stood next to her father’s throne.  She had him firmly wrapped around her tiny fingers.  And four-month-old Brennan slept peacefully in his grandfather’s arms.  There was already talk of making her son Maurice’s heir to the throne.  It was still too early to discuss such things, but Rumpelstiltskin had his reservations.  Very strong ones at that.  He believed the children should grow up to choose their own fate, not have duty and obligation forced upon them.  Especially at such a young age.  Belle tended to agree, remembering how difficult it had been growing up in the palace with such a heavy future weighing upon her slender shoulders.  She wanted her children to find the same joy and happiness she had found with her darling husband.

          Speaking of which, she sighed, looking up into his scowling visage …

          “Who are you glowering at now, might I ask?”

          Rumpelstiltskin didn’t spare her a glance as his eyes narrowed on the nobleman dancing with Morraine.  “If his hands slip another inch towards her posterior, he’s going to have tentacles growing out of his bloody ears,” he growled.

          Belle chuckled softly, idly wondering how he could follow the steps of the dance and spy on his daughter at the same time.  “’Raine is more than capable of fending off some handsy bounder, Rumpel.  You made sure of that.  If not with her magic, then with the dirk she has strapped to her thigh.”

          A smug smirk curled his lips.  “Our girl is quite remarkable, isn’t she?”

          “Indeed, she is.  And she’s not one to fall for the likes of the men in attendance this evening,” she assured him.

          It wasn’t a secret how he felt about the men of Avonlea.  There would be no match for his daughter to form an alliance with _any_ kingdom.  Morraine was free to choose for love.  The mage arched a brow at his wife.  “You seem quite confident about that, pet.”

          “I should.  Anyone with eyes can see she has her heart set on Peter.  I believe the only reason he hasn’t asked your permission to court her is because Morraine doesn’t want to leave you.”

          “Me?!” he asked, his steps faltering.

          “She adores you, darling.  You are her whole world.  You saved her as a child and raised her as your own when she could have easily died on that battlefield or been destined for an orphanage.  You showed her what it was to have a family after she lost her own.  I think she fears if she marries, she will lose that,” she explained gently as he led her off the dance floor.

          “I’ll talk to her.  I don’t want her to hold off on her own happiness because of some misguided fear.”

          Belle nodded sagely.  “I’m sure we could build them a quaint little cottage on our lands, Rum.  Perhaps that little spot by the lake?  Then she wouldn’t have to be far from us or the children.  And you’re already grooming her to take over the shop.”

          Rumpelstiltskin felt a bit better hearing his wife’s advice.  They would make it work.  He stopped a passing servant and took two flutes of champagne, handing one to Belle.  “I still can’t believe you dragged us all to Avonlea this week.”

          She smiled sweetly.  “Papa wanted to introduce his new grandson to the kingdom, darling.  It was the same when Morna was born.  He’s a doting grandfather.  Be nice.”

          The sorcerer snorted.  “He’s spoiling them rotten.  He hasn’t put Brennan down since we got here yesterday.”

          “Stop exaggerating, Rum,” she laughed, the sweet sound lightening his mood exponentially.  “You’re guilty of the same, and you know it.”

          “Hmm … at least he kept the fairies away,” he said, remarking on the custom of having the fairies bless a new born royal upon their birth.  “Meddlesome gnats.”

          Belle took his glass and set it beside hers on one of the refreshment tables before twining her fingers with his.  “Come, I want to show you something.”

          His gaze instantly sought out his children, still being entertained by Baelfire and the king on the dais.  “The children –“

          “Will be fine,” she reassured him.  “You know they’re in good hands.”

          With one last look at his wee ones, he allowed her to lead him out onto the terrace and further into the garden.  “Where are we going?”

          “You’ll see …” Belle giggled, leading him down the moonlit path to her favorite area of the garden, the sweet scent of roses and lavender filling the air, the sounds from the ballroom growing faint as they left it behind.  He would follow her anywhere, even to the ends of the earth.  The warm weight of her hand in his, the comforting feel of her body brushing his as she led him deeper into the foliage … gods, how he loved her.  She made it easy to forget the years of loneliness he’d endured in his past and give him hope for the future, knowing she would always be by his side.

          The spot she brought him to overlooked the sea, the moonlight shining upon the water, the waves gently lapping at the shore far below them.  He sat down on the stone bench and sighed as she settled herself upon his lap, wrapping his arms about her waist to draw her in close.  “This is lovely, sweetheart.”

          “This has always been my very favorite place in the entire palace.  When I was a child, my mother would bring me here and read to me for hours.  When she was gone, it was the only place I could find comfort.  I wanted to share it with you … because this is where our story began, Rumpel,” she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder.

          “Is it?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her brow as he enjoyed simply holding her in his arms for a quiet moment.  It was rare when they could find time to just be with the demands of their young children.

          “Mhmm.  You weren’t the first aid I sought against the ogres.  It was here I sat and called upon Rheul Ghorm.  I thought all hope was lost when she informed me she couldn’t help me.  It was simply beyond her power, she claimed.”

          He smiled fondly as he remembered her letter to him, and how eloquently she’d requested his presence.  “You must have been truly desperate to call upon me.”

          “I was,” she whispered, her fingers curling in the ends of his soft hair.  “There were always whispers of the Dark One, usually just stories to frighten wayward children into minding their manners.  I went to my father, hoping he would try to contact you, but he was adamant in his refusal.”

          “So, you took it upon yourself to do what he wouldn’t.”

          Belle nodded, a small smile forming upon her rosebud mouth.  “Yes.  I sat here upon this bench to write my letter to you.  Oh, husband, it was the best thing I’ve ever done, taking that chance on you.  You didn’t just save my kingdom.  You saved _me_ and filled my life with joy.”

          Rumpelstiltskin cradled her cheek in his warm palm, tears pricking shamelessly at his eyes.  “I love you, pet … so much.  Our children are my world, but you … you are my heart, Belle.  I never knew what it was like to have someone love me unconditionally or so passionately it makes me weep.  You fulfill me in ways I’d never known was possible.”

          Belle gave herself over to his kiss, her heart swelling nigh to bursting with love for him.  When she pulled away, she was breathless, happiness radiating from her every pore.  “Sometimes, when we’ve lost all hope, we’re granted the greatest gift of all.  Love …”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

          Deep within the Dark Forest, amidst its towering pines, there was a clearing devoid of light where nothing would grow in the inky shadows.  It was cold, even in the dead of summer, and a place where even the most stalwart adventurer dare not tread.  Set deep into the ground, a stone ring inlaid with ancient ruins kept a silent vigil over the dark evil secrets hidden far below.  The earth rumbled from time to time, the darkness chained within restless.  For there, in the darkest corner of the tomb sat a pedestal holding a lone velvet cushion where upon the Dark One’s dagger lay.  Hidden from the world, protecting the innocent from the most fearsome darkness known to man, waiting … always waiting for its chance to be free once more.

          The foundation shook, centuries of dust and decay filtering down.  A giggle, chilling in its madness, echoing off the stone walls as the dagger disappeared, unleashed once more upon the world to find its next willing host.

 

THE END

 

 

         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n: That last part was for Twyla. Love you, darling! NO! there will not be a sequel. This tale is finished. I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed and stuck with me even though I took a whole year off for other projects. Your support has meant everything to me and I love you all.


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